


bad man/good father

by cl3rks



Series: x marks the spot [4]
Category: Logan (2017) - Fandom, Wolverine (Movies), Wolverine and the X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Anniversary, Burglary, Childbirth, Childhood Habits, Church Confessions, Cunnilingus, Doggy Style, Donnie is Southern Boy, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fingering, Gifts, Headboard breaking, Mentioned Abuse, Missionary Position, PTA Meetings, Parental Abuse, Pets, Pre-Established Relationship, School stuff, Self-Doubt, Sexual Content, Swearing, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, author fleshed out timeline, character cameos, childbirth in c6, dialogue heavy (as usual), dinner date, dinner party!!!!!!!, donald pierce is kind of a jerk to his daughter in some ways tbh, dumb convos, emily is a space nerd lbr, how mundane wtf, ice chips, inaccurate army stuff, loss of extremity, loss of friend, military fighting, neighborhood watch meetings, parental neglect, pregnancy mention, tiny dogs protecting ppl much bigger than them, vague military things, vague war mention, weird spacing (as usual)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2018-10-02 21:35:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 38,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10227965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cl3rks/pseuds/cl3rks
Summary: Donald Pierce is a good man to you, a good husband and a good father to your daughter, no matter how much he doubts it.[playlist, that I haven't ordered and there may be doubles of songs: http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL8nGAxy0iL1vSBNgZAZtfMrtvxcFknEt3 ]





	1. parents' day

**Author's Note:**

> LMAO!! This'll be a series of oneshots involving Donald Pierce, you and your kid together. Get ready for some shit, man!!
> 
> first chapter is gender-specific or, at least, female pronouns are used.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter edited: 04/10/17

You were sitting across from your daughter, watching her scoot her eggs around on her plate. She had only just finished her bacon and toast, the grapes were half gone and she looked a bit disgusted as she stared at the food.

“What’s wrong?” You sighed softly, watching her.

She looked up at you and her cheeks went a bit rosy. “I don’t feel good.”

You furrowed your eyebrows a little. “Why?” She shrugged in response. “Is it your head? Your stomach?”

She nodded a little. “Dad’s never come to school for parents’ day.” She whispered, poking at her eggs as she dropped her head again.

“You’re nervous, sweetie.” You smiled warmly, watching her still. “Here, I’ll get you some water. You don’t have to finish your eggs, I’m sure your father will be happy to – when he gets out here!”

She smiled back a little, watching you take her plate and scrape the rest onto her father’s place before you went to the sink, rinsed the dish, got her some water and set it in front of her. “Thanks, mom.”

“Don’t worry too much, sweetie, it’ll be fine.” You assured her, glancing to the doorway of the kitchen to see the man you’d been speaking of attempting to hide his neck tattoo. “Donnie, leave it – it’s fine.”

“I may have never been there for parents’ day,” He started, glancing to your daughter before meeting your eyes. He had heard your conversation, apparently. “But I went to ya class for that end of year stuff and that one teacher of yours, Mrs. Hilden, hates me. Wanna look presentable.”

You snorted a laugh, stepping towards him as he looked over your shoulder to send a smile to your daughter. She stared at her water, trying to beat her anxiety. “She’s just nervous.”

Your husband nodded slowly, meeting your eyes. You leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his lips, hearing your daughter groan from behind you. Both you and Donald grinned slightly but an eyebrow of his went up as you reached forward and undid his top button, adjusting his collar to expose his tattoo and the gold chain he wore. “Makin’ me less presentable, baby.”

“Mrs. Hilden will have to _deal_ with it, Donnie.” You sighed softly, pressing your lips to his once more before motioning him to his seat. “Now, dig in – it’s probably cold at this point.”

He sighed and apologized, sitting down in his chair to eat quickly before the three of you left for the school. It was his turn to drive and half of you wished it was yours, because when you got there, the parking lot was like a zoo and Donald was swearing up a storm as people cut him off on several occasions. You glanced back at your daughter, rolling her eyes every time he did – an eleven year old didn’t need to hear all of that, but then again he was just as nervous as she was.

_Like father like daughter,_ you sighed. 

“Hey, Emily?” You asked, looking back at her again. She looked at you, stopping herself from picking anxiously at the ripped seam on the edge of her comic book-related shirt. “Is there anyone you want to go to first?”

“Miss Addams.” Emily replied almost instantly. “She’s one of the newer, younger teachers.”

“What’s she teach? – Jesus Christ, watch it!” Donald yelled, slamming his hand against the steering wheel. 

“You should watch it.” You whispered as he found a space, pulling in quickly. He sent you a sideways glance and his features softened. “Em?”

“Art.” She said quietly, waiting for Donald to hit the unlock button on the doors. He turned off the ignition and hit the unlock button as Emily reached for the handle. “She helped me with the paper-mache pig last week.”

“You made a paper-mache pig?” Donald questioned, stepping out as you and Emily did. You shut your doors on the large SUV and Donald locked it.

You whispered to him once he got close to you. “I showed you Monday night.”

“I don’t remember.” He said just as quietly, but you had a feeling Emily heard him. Her shoulders sagged slightly and you felt your heart squeeze. “I’m sorry, I don’t… I just-“

“I know, you’re busy.” You told him a bit louder, giving his chest a pat as you walked beside him. The two of you watched as Emily scampered inside, her bag bouncing on her back as you two told her to slow down. She only stopped when she reached Miss Addams’ class. “She decorated.”

Along all the walls were projects all the kids had worked on – from painting to paper-mache to small sketches to using construction paper for leaves. You smiled as you glanced at Donald, his eyes moving over everything. It appeared that every kid had at least one thing up with their name hanging above it. You knew there weren’t a whole bunch of kids at this school, considering it was a little higher up in the world than other schools. 

That was, of course, because Donald made quite a bit of money – though he never talked about work. You assumed it was just some regular office stuff, maybe a bit of research but the clothing policy seemed a little lax and – “Holy shiiit! My baby girl made _that?”_

You looked to where he was pointing to see a (somewhat complex) shoebox diorama of the solar system – her science teacher and art teacher had said it counted for both classes because she was clever enough to ask. “Yeah, she did. None of the others kid did it on their own. She used stuff she found around the house. It was amusing, really, to see her running back and forth outside our bedroom with paper and pencils dropping behind her. I think she stole some of your floss for the stuff that holds up the planets, though.”

“That’s fine.” He said slowly, walking up to it. He gently poked the sun, seeing it turn. “She used her old mobile top?”

You grinned as he recognized it. “Wanted it to spin so all the planets could be displayed and seen properly.”

“She’s smart.” Donald observed, watching it spin a bit more. He heard heels clicking near him and turned his head to see a navy blue skirt with white polka dots at eye level. You watched the teacher beside him smiling with red lips showing white teeth. He white blouse and blue cardigan made you think of yourself when you were younger. Donald stood to his full height and he towered over her. You saw her visibly swallow and saw him smirk a little at the action. He introduced himself, watching her stare at his neck tattoo. “Donald Pierce.”

Emily was beside her and rolled her eyes (again) as she noticed her favorite (not so much, now) teacher was _gawking_ at her father.

You thought it was understandable but… still, you were right there. “Oh, uh, hello. You’re Emily’s father, then – she’s told me a bit about you. I’m Miss Addams. You can call me Trixie, though.”

You stared at her, watching Donald glance over his shoulder at you. He had the widest smirk on his face you’d ever seen! He was _amused_ by this twenty-something woman fluttering her eyelashes at him. 

“Hello, Miss Addams,” He replied, gesturing to you and you stood beside him. “This is my wife, (Y/N), I mean, you’ve probably met her before. She comes to these more than I do.”

_Trixie_ looked at you and nodded. “Yeah, I have! Always a pleasure, Mrs. Pierce.”

“Mhm.” You muttered, sending her a quick smile as Donald tried to fight his own. “How has Emily been doing?”

“Absolutely wonderful! She’s really excelling, I’ve had to give her extra projects because of how easy she is able to complete assignments, unlike the other children.”

This seemed to be a recurring theme, you noticed, as you went to various classrooms. You and Donald heard the same things – most of which you already knew – but he was genuinely curious and listening to everything each teacher had to say, all with Emily standing close by or talking to a few of her friends. 

Donald had a weird look on his face as you arrived at the last class and you told Emily to go play with friends while you talked to him. “What’s wrong?”

“Did ya know she loves science? I didn’t.” He muttered, running a hand over his face and through his blond hair. You sighed as he mussed it, no matter how good it looked. “She hates math, but she’s good at it. She loves art, likes paper-mache and shit. She writes like a fuckin’ college student, apparently. She hates writing, makes her hand hurt, but she’s also good at it. Did ya know that?”

“I did.” You told him, making a look cross his face nothing short of _disappointed in himself._

“I’m a bad father.”

“No, you’re not. She doesn’t hate you for going away, you’re providing for us. I explained it to her multiple times, she understands, Donnie.” You told him softly, watching as a couple parents scowled at his language. “She misses you, yeah, but you’re not horribly far away, we could visit you at work if it’d make you feel bet-“

“No!” He said hurriedly, swallowing almost harshly as he was quick to correct himself. “No, no, it’d bore her.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at his reaction. “Donnie, just –“ His phone started ringing and you sighed softly. “You should get that.”

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, tugging on your arm to bring you close. You stared at his neck as he kissed the top of your head then leaned down to press his lips to yours in a hard kiss. “I love you.” He let go of your arm and pulled out his phone, answering it as he called over Emily. He talked to whoever was on the phone for a moment. “Yeah, give me a second. I’ve gotta take care of somethin’.”

Emily took one glance at his phone and you saw the anger rise in her eyes for a moment just as something-like a strong breeze hit one of the school doors and blew it open, taking Donald’s attention for a moment too long. You glanced at her and she immediately pushed her anger away, watching her father lean down. “Alright, kiddo, I’ve gotta head into work. It was amazin’ seein’ what you’ve done. I’m proud o’ya.”

He gave her head a quick kiss and stood tall, pressing his phone to his ear as he turned on his heel and started down the hall. You looked down at Emily and watched her weakly reach her hand out for a moment, just a moment, the exact moment that Donald turned back to look at her. He sent her a smile but it dropped a little as her hand did.

Your heart clenched at the sight 

You watched him go, knowing he’d take the car and you’d end up calling another car somewhere along the way.

You got the number of a limousine driver in the area from Trixie, much to your dismay, because yeah you had the money for it – but it seemed a bit gaudy to you… it quickly fixed you, however, when you saw the buckshot holes in the side of it.

You rolled your eyes and gently pushed Emily in the backseat as a man with salt-and-pepper hair asked you where you needed to go.

It was gonna be a long week.


	2. press on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something doesn't seem right / Emily wants a dog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter goes from the reader being all suspicious to breaking the tension by mentioning what emily wants to like idk i just felt like writing it

Donald was sitting at his desk one night, typing something up on his laptop. You came up behind him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you rested your chin on his head. He continued to type as you stared at the words, not even tensing for a second when you’d come up to him without warning.

“What’re typing there, Shakespeare?”

He chuckled and you smiled to yourself at the sound. “A report.”

“What kind?” You asked curiously, watching his deft fingers move quickly across the keyboard. “Looks important.”

“We lost a shipment down at the docks. One o’ the ships got robbed by a carrier. The guys have never seen anythin’ like it.” Donald told you, saving the report as he paused for a moment, stilling his fingers over the top of the black keys. “The thing jus’ came right up beside ‘em, used their crane and took about three shippin’ containers.”

“That’s… whoa.” You muttered, moving your chin off his head as he nodded. Your arms were still around him as he went back to typing. “What was in them?”

In the reflection of the dim screen, you saw his eyes flicker to your face and his fingers twitched as he took a deep breath. “Some lab equipment.”

You furrowed your eyebrows slightly – three containers full of lab equipment in those giant shipping containers? Something didn’t seem right about that, so you pressed on. “Oh? They hosting another fair?” 

“No, some investors were going to come by and take a look at a few… tests the boss likes to run. He was starting to have a breakthrough with some of the cancer cells.” He took a moment before adding a thought. “He likes to have very pristine looking equipment when fancy folks stop by.”

Now, that ticked something off in your mind. He always told you he did field work or something like that, which, in your opinion, was fine. He’d explained the “lax” dress code – said he arrived in whatever and would change when he got there, they had special clothes for people to wear there. But ordering three gigantic orders of lab equipment just because “the boss” liked thing to be pristine? 

That seemed excessive. Couldn’t they just steam clean the ever-living shit out of what they already had?

Sure, you knew where he worked and you had heard whispers of what went on there, but you had faith in your husband that he would tell you what truly went on and squash the rumors himself.

Research you believed, but you didn’t think it was cancer.

You watched him save his work and close off the document, his background lighting up the screen. It was a picture of you beside him as he held Emily, about thirty minutes after she was born. You saw his jaw clench at the picture and he took a deep breath.

“She wants a dog.” You said, breaking whatever tension was beginning to simmer. “Or another cat.”

“She has three fish, (Y/N) _and_ a cat.” He sighed softly, bringing his cyber-hand up to scratch at his chin. “Why’s she need another one?”

“Donnie, she hasn’t had three fish in about two months, remember?” You asked softly, gently running your fingers over the base of his throat. He was wearing a black beater, something you personally loved seeing him in, that, and a pair of sweatpants that would seem disgustingly out of character had people who truly knew him ever see him in them. “Figaro ate them.”

You always loved that name, as did Emily when you showed her _Pinocchio._

He turned his head slightly. “Right, sorry… I – I’m not thinkin’ straight, baby.”

“You okay? You’ve been forgetting some things lately.” You told him, leaning your head to press a few gentle kisses to the back of his neck and side of his jaw. You pressed even softer ones, if that was possible, to the juncture of his neck where his jaw met close to his ear – he loved that. “You’ve probably just been stressing out, again... those lost shipments must mean more than you’re letting on.”

You, of course, chuckled a little to attempt to present it as a joke, but you felt Donald tense beneath your arms. He took a moment before replying.  
“Mhm.” He muttered in agreement, turning his head slightly as he leaned into your affection. “We could get a dog.”

“The last time you had one was when we met, poor thing was old then.” You muttered against his skin, feeling his human hand come up to rest on the arm you had across his broad shoulders. “We’ll sit Emily down and tell her what she’ll need to do for the dog with us. Y’know, chores, basically.”

“Sounds good.” Donald shrugged a little, careful not to move your arms from him. “Fig won’t like the dog.”

“She’ll have to get used to it.” You laughed softly. Emily liked animals being female, more, once she learned they do a lot of hard work in the wild and otherwise… which is why instead of getting a male cat like the original character of Figaro, she asked for a girl. You were happy to oblige, and so was Donald. “Though, I do have one question…”

“What’s that?”

“What kind of dog will it be?” 

Donald gently removed your arms from his shoulders, turning and standing from his chair after he shut off his laptop. “Well, when we went to her school, I saw that one report of hers on bigger dogs.”

“The one about them being misconstrued as always mean, always dangerous?”

He nodded slowly, looking at you. “She’ll want a big dog.”

“But she’ll have to walk it a bit more than a smaller dog.” You sighed softly, watching a lopsided smile curve onto your husband’s lips, exposing his oddly attractive gold tooth. “What?”

“I think the dog’ll walk her more than she’ll walk it.” He laughed, watching as a smile appeared on your face and then you did the same. “She’s not exactly the biggest kid in the world.”

“She’ll catch up, she’s already ahead of the game academically.”


	3. bedtime story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emily won't sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is kind of a flashback/story chapter? Anything from the past is bolded. I'm sorry if it's hard to read. :///

You were patiently waiting for Donald to come home, your body tired from spending the entire day with your daughter – she tended to tire your brain which tired your body. She didn’t need too much help with homework, but she humored both you and Don with allowing you to help because that’s what parents _do._

You worked on her with English and Literature, Donald worked on her with one thing she _actually_ had issues with – physical education. She hated it, swore that if she was ever caught running that someone should call the police because she’s in danger and both you and Donald laughed nervously but for different reasons unknown to the other. 

Anyway, he helped her do laps around the house, running around in sneakers, sweats and some dark gray or black beater he happened to have ten versions of in his drawer. You would laugh as you sat on the front stoop, watching Don lap her before Emily got sick of him yelling joking taunts and she’d run so fast that she tired herself out and Don would have to talk to her about pacing.

I digress. She was supposed to be sleeping, but as you finished tidying up the coffee table, you swear you heard the creak of that _one_ drawer on her desk opening – only your child would be working extra this late at night.

You slowly walked to her room, pushing open the door to see her exactly where you thought she was.

“Emily?” You sighed, watching her write something on the page before looking at you. “You should be sleeping, sweetie.”

“Not tired.” She mumbled, looking at the page as she continued to write. “You may get a call from the school.”

“What, why?” You always felt like you were talking to an adult when she spoke – or, at least, most of the time – she was so calm and serious. “What’d you do?”

“I asked about mutants during history. Mr. Garner sent me to the principal.” She muttered, shaking her head. “It was an honest question; I didn’t mean anything by it. I just hope dad doesn’t get the call.”

“Why not?”

Emily turned to you this time, her whole body facing you. “In case you haven’t noticed, he isn’t exactly... friendly to the idea of them wandering around.”

“I have, but I didn’t know you did.” You told her honestly, motioning to her blue-blanketed bed. “How’d you figure it out?”

“I heard him on the phone once.” Emily admitted, standing up from her chair to cross the room. You watched as she did, adjusting her comic book themed sweater. She had it cause, despite your husband not being on board with mutants, he still liked comic books. “He wasn’t mean with how he was talking, but he was talking kind of quick. I was outside his office, waiting on him so we could go play catch and maybe he heard me when I stepped closer or something cause he hung up and yanked open his door.”

“Just… fine, I’ll be on the lookout for it. Lay down.” Emily nodded and got into bed, you watching as her feet stuck out from under the blanket and over the edge of the bed. “Looks like you grew again.”

She looked down at her feet, shifting so she was curled up without her feet hanging off. “Can you measure me in the morning?”

“Yeah, I’ll get the pencil and you can stand against the wall – see how much it’s been since last time you shot up like a weed.” She grinned and you were about to get up and leave when your daughter spoke, watching you. 

“How did you and dad meet?”

“You know how, Em.” You sighed, rubbing tiredly at your eyes. You glanced over your shoulder to see her watching you with big blue eyes. _The one weakness you had she happened to get from her father._ “If I tell you again, will you go to sleep?”

She nodded quickly, watching as you turned around fully to take her desk chair and pull it over to the side of her bed. “Thank you.”

“Alright, sweetie, where do I begin? Oh!”

**When you met Donald Pierce, he wasn’t big or tough or angry-looking, no, he was a lanky teenager with hair sticking up in different places and a drawl that wasn’t exactly attractive to most girls around because they’d heard it from every boy, or even girl, around them. You, on the other hand, had just moved to the neighborhood and were being dragged to a block-party that had barbecue, lawn games, people going into others’ backyards for pool use – and you were watching in horror as people wanted to interact with you and your mother pushed you to do the same.**

**_“Mom!”_ You protested as she grabbed your arm, not hard enough to hurt you but enough to bring you along, and practically dropped you in front of Mr. and Mrs. Pierce and their tall, annoyed-looking kid. **

**_“Janet, this is my older daughter (Y/N).”_ Your mother introduced, releasing her grip on your arm as your father patted you on the back. You glanced towards your mother’s pregnant belly, thankful she wouldn’t make this introduction longer by introducing your baby brother or sister like she normally did. _“(Y/N), this is Janet Pierce, Tom Pierce and their son, Donald.”_**

**The teenager crinkled his nose at the name, clearly not enthused by it. You greeted both of his parents, shaking their hands.**

**_“Donald – pay attention,”_ His father growled and the teenager’s eyes shot up to watch your parents before his father smiled stiffly. _“This is Anna (Y/L/N) and Bill (Y/L/N).”_**

**The teenager shook their hands and mumbled his name even though they already knew it. The parents got to talking as both you and Donald stood there awkwardly, not involved until his father brought a hand up and clapped his son _so hard_ on the back that he _stumbled_ forward and almost would have fallen had you not steadied him. _“This little runt is named after me! Donald’s my middle name and we knew right away that he should be named that.”_**

**Janet smiled at her son, who struggled to smile back, and then turned back into the conversation, sipping at whatever mom-drink was in her red solo cup.**

**_“Hey, Donald?”_ You asked softly, watching him crinkle his nose again. _“Donnie?”_**

**His eyes snapped to yours suddenly, and you watched the intensity of the blue calm a little. _“What?”_**

**_“I have some lawn chairs, y’know, if you wanna go watch the neighbors swim in my pool, or, y’know, we can just walk around?”_ You asked, watching him glance at the side of his father’s head. He clenched his jaw before nodding. _“Mom, dad, we’re gonna go walk around a bit.”_**

**Your mother smiled wide, your father not hearing what you said. _“Oh, that’s wonderful, sweetie! Go right ahead!”_**

**You started walking and Donald followed suit, breathing a sigh of relief once some space was between him and his parents. You two walked to a cooler and each grabbed a can of pop – coke, because that’s apparently all this neighborhood had – and began walking around. You didn’t talk until he did.**

**_“Why’d ya call me Donnie?”_ **

**You sipped your coke, shrugging slightly as you squinted at the sun. _“Your father called you Donald and you didn’t seem to like the name or your father.”_ You felt his eyes on you and turned your head slightly to meet his gaze. _“Just an observation.”_**

**_“My dad can’t figure it out and he’s been ‘round me his whole life and you’ve known me for less than ten minutes an’ you jus’ immediately figured it out.”_ You could see the wonder in his eyes as you spoke.**

**_“There’s a difference between the two.”_ You watched him furrow his eyebrows. _“Being around someone and knowing them, there’s a difference.”_**

**He nodded slowly, looking down at his sodacan. He opened the top and took a long drink from it, like he was avoiding conversation. You led him past the balloon darts, past every little game and little thing and to your backyard, flopping down in the plastic lawn chair that was worn as hell.**

**_“My parents have metal ones.”_ He muttered, messing with one of the plastic bands on the chair.**

**_“I’m from the city, Donnie, we used these things as parking space savers. That, and a broom duct taped across the top.”_ You explained, sighing at the fond memory. He raised an eyebrow at what you had said. You rolled your eyes, looking back to the people paddling in your pool. _“Didn’t have a pool either, that’s new.”_**

**_“Most of ‘em had to be put in, the board jus’ ended up puttin’ ‘em in all the backyards rather than listen to the amount of money people were spendin’ tearin’ up their backyards and moving pipes… yada-yada.”_ **

**You chuckled softly, watching him smile at the sound. _“You live here long?”_**

**He shrugged nonchalantly. _“Jus’ my whole life.”_**

Emily groaned as you finished the story. “You left out the part where he fell through the chair!”

“But you _know_ that part, Emily!” You groaned back, watching her frown. “Fine.”

**You were sitting there, minding your own business, sipping your coke and watching the people in your pool when you suddenly heard a gentle tug, a rip and then the sound of a teenager’s ass hitting cement. _“Did you just fall through my chair?”_ You asked, still not having turned to look at him. **

**He cleared his throat. _“Maybe.”_ You turned to see the embarrassed fellow-teenager turning red with his butt and some of his legs through the hole he clearly created as you sighed.**

**_“I’ll go get another chair from the garage.”_ **

“Better?” You asked and Emily nodded, cozying up in her bed. You stood, put her desk chair back and left the room, turning off her overhead light as you did. You glanced at her ceiling, watching her point at each glow in the dark star and planet as you walked down the hall. You heard keys hit a counter and practically bolted down the stairs. “Donnie!”

He had been at a conference (or something) for the past three days and he was tired – but not too tired to catch you as you jumped on him and wrapped your legs around his waist. “Well, hello to you to, ma’am.”

“That makes me feel old.” You muttered, pressing your lips to his as his mustache tickled your upper lip in a way you’ve grown accustomed to.

“You are old.” He mumbled, earning a gasp from you as you pulled back. “So am I, though.”

“Well, mid-30s isn’t horribly old.” You replied, dropping off your husband. “How was the conference?”

He was still carrying his duffel and you smiled a little. He was strong enough to carry his heavy-ass duffel bag and carry you even when he was tired. The word _strong_ came to mind.

“Oh, same old shit, really. Bunch’a rent-a-cops there thinkin’ they’re hot shit.”

“But not you, Mr. Chief of Security.” You smiled, laughing as an offended look appeared on his face. “What?”

“I’m gon’ get ya for that one.” He told you sincerely, hearing you giggle before a smile replaced the offended look. “Where’s Em?”

“Should be asleep.” You replied watching him begin up the stairs.

“We all know I’m not.” You heard her voice from the top of said stairs.

Donald chuckled as he made it halfway up, continuing as you followed. He saw Emily and smiled a bit more, his bright eyes giving away his haziness. “Did you promise you’d sleep?”

“No, I nodded.” She replied, always an answer for everything in her mind. “She told me how you met.”

“Again?” He sighed, glancing back at you as you both made it up the stairs. “How many times have ya told tha’ one?”

“She wanted to hear it, besides, you know her favorite part.”

“I didn’t mean to fall through the damn chair, a’right? I was pickin’ at the plastic and the thing split on me, did this weird sorta squirm thing on me, too, like it shook a little.”

“More like under you.” You muttered as Emily snorted, going back to her room. You knew she was out of earshot and so did you loving husband, because he put his free arm around you and yanked you close to him. He whispered in your ear as you gasped.

“You shake ‘n’ squirm under me too, baby.” 

“Donald!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao what's good emily is a nerd and you all should be pickin' up on why and if it isn't obvious then the shit i have planned will be the biggest mind blowing in the history of mind blows


	4. i love you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memories you cherish are ones he too, holds dear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit: chapter changed slightly on 04/10/17 [things changed: donnie's age, your age, the date being 2013, pregnancy... basically, just little shit that you wouldn't have really notice a change in.]
> 
> what the fuck i got this idea from a new friend and yeah like whew thank you friendo
> 
> (reasons i said 2013: i headcanon donnie as like 36 during the year 2029, which is when logan (2017) is set. so he would've been born in 1993 according to my own fleshed out timeline. in my one flashback story, he was 16/17, so that puts him at 2009/2010. add three or four years, he's 19/20. that would've been 2013. so yeah)

You were staring at the side of his face as he drove, watching his eyes flicker to the individual signs that told him where he was and you remembered, fondly, or at least you’d like to think, a time when you were both much younger and much more… innocent to the world, even if you were traversing it together. 

It was one of the first times he told you he loved you, in a truck much more beat up than the one you’re in now. You liked to remember the handful of times he first told you he loved you because they all seemed sweeter that way.

When you were about nineteen, you’d know him for three years since that block party, and you had been in a relationship with him for one of those three.

He wasn’t a hard man to fall for, you told your mother with a special glint in your eyes. But that day, mid-July during a blazing summer, had caught you off guard. You were sitting in the passenger’s seat with his right hand holding yours, that stereotypical-country song-esque beat up truck, rumbling away around you two. You heard the sputter as the car jerked then what sounded like a choke from the engine and suddenly smoke was rising from that same place as Donald let out a curse, making sure to put it in park before he yanked his keys from the ignition.

_“Need me to call someone?” You asked as he got out of the truck, slamming the door behind himself angrily. “Donnie?”_

_“No, I’ll get it.” He muttered, watching you through the windshield as he popped the hood and held it up. You watched him for a moment, more smoke rising from the engine as he waved at it. You heard him cough loudly, sighing to yourself as you checked your phone. “2013 and cars are still pieces o’ shit!”_

_You laughed softly at his response, sticking your head out the rolled down window, the hot air felt muggy against your face. “Too hot?”_

_“Yeah,” He paused for a moment, shaking his head. “Too hot. Poor thing don’t like the summer.”_

_“I know.” You told him, trying to sound cheery and not agitated by the heat. “Do you wanna start walkin’ or will you let me call someone?”_

_“We can wait it out.”_

_You snorted as he closed the hood. “You might be able to, Southern boy, but I’m not getting heat stroke out here waiting for your ass to let your truck cool down.”_

_He sighed softly and ran a hand through his hair, getting back into the truck. He clenched his jaw and put his hands on the wheel, tightening his grip ever-so-slightly as he spoke. “I love you,” You gasped loudly as he talked over it. “And I care for you, which is why I’m not gonna let you hoof it in the afternoon, down a dirt road in mid-July to surely die of heat stroke.”_

_You were so caught off guard that you just stared at the side of his face. He turned to look at you and then glanced down at your phone. “Go ahead and call someone.”_

_You don’t think you’ve ever typed faster in your life._

But you recalled another time, as Donald continued to drive to your destination, Emily in the backseat and not even attempting to engage in conversation. 

It was the day he proposed, all lazy-like and… wrong time – I mean, you still said yes, but – anyway, it was something you’ll never forget. It was, again, hot as shit outside, and you were in for a slow morning fuck. You were on top of him, hands sprawled across his chest as your nails gently raked down the muscular expansion. He was staring up at you, slowly thrusting up into you as you ground your hips down onto him, taking him as deep as possible with little to-no effort whatsoever. 

His large hands were on the side of your thighs, just holding them and squeezing them every so often as little gasps left him. The A/C was broken, but you had about three fans running in your room with the windows open, circulating as much as possible – so, in all honesty, having sex probably wasn’t the best decision, but you both still made the choice. 

_“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” He said hoarsely, voice rough from a good night’s sleep, his blue eyes bright and clear and filled with_ fondness _you loved seeing from him. He whispered his next words, however, and you watched him tenderly as a gentle orgasm washed over you. “I love you.”_

_You clenched around him and leaned down, pressing kiss after kiss against his lips and jaw and throat and chest as he continued to thrust until he reached his own orgasm. “I love you, too.”_

_With his cock still in you, as he breathed a sigh of relief, almost, he said, “I wanna marry you. I mean, not now, naturally, but soon. I want… I want a family with you, if you’ll have me, that is, and I’ll wait if you need time but-“_

_“Yes.” You told him, pressing another kiss to his lips to silence him. You rolled off him and watched him turn, propping his temple on his fist with his elbow digging into the mattress, his eyes concerned but happy, all the same. “I’d like that.”_

You glanced behind yourself to watch Emily, and your heart fluttered at the memory of another time.

You had married a tad younger than most couples, mostly because Donald wanted to go into the military. This shocked you because his father had been in, and he hated his old man, but you encouraged him all the same. He had been, sadly, discharged after a few years in for some reason unknown to you. (You thought that, maybe, it had to do with his hand? But you weren't sure.) Anyway, soon after he got out, you had been trying to conceive with no luck for a month or so, which was, in all honesty, normal. But, one day you felt sick to your stomach and you charged to the bathroom. Donald was at work, some… decent paying job or high-tech-whatever that he’d been employed at after his military discharge. 

They paid well and it kept you both afloat, even with your job as a tutor down at the new elementary school. You didn't know what it was, but you definitely noticed when he started carrying a gun.

_“Fuck.” Your first thought was food poisoning, but your second had you rushing down to the drugstore and buying a pregnancy test – perhaps this was it, this was the day. You went to the bathroom again, peed on the anxiety-provoking stick and waited. You cried when that little ‘+’ sign greeted you, like a smile down upon you from whatever deity was out there._

_Donald had apparently rushed home, that day, to tell you news as you had rushed out of the bathroom the second you heard his keys to tell him your own news. His face was a little grim, like something had happened at work – he had been talking very little about them, but he did mention that he was going to be put through a… test, of sorts, and he was beyond eager. When he came home, however, he looked sick. He was about to tell you something, something_ direly _important, when you blurted, “I’m pregnant!” and all grimness washed away on his face as he swallowed the urge to vomit and yelled his excitement._

 _He never told you his_ real _news, said… it wasn’t as important, although, time went by and you had a feeling his job switched. He went from talking about security to mentioning a cancer study, which you smiled at and let him talk about the little information he knew. He was always jittery when reading emails about it or reading the paperwork, always slamming his laptop shut or shuffling the papers and covering them with a binder – you never asked, though, figured it was “top secret”._

Maybe you should’ve, maybe it would’ve saved you from the heartache you’d get many years later. 

But as you watched Emily, you felt eyes on you and turned to him, he knew that look on your face – knew you were thinking – and he spoke. “Somethin’ on your mind?”

“You.” You told him softly. “All good things, though.”

He smiled wide, that gold tooth exposing itself as he pulled into the parking lot of some bookstore Emily had asked to check out before you three went to dinner at a local restaurant. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

(Your fondest memory, probably, is when you couldn’t sleep one night, Donald’s arm slung over your waist, his warm body pressed to your back. You felt his hot breath on your neck, you felt protected as he pulled you, somehow, closer. You put your arms around his, tangled your legs with his and everything felt… _comfortable._ It’s not like you didn’t get butterflies from him, but you felt comfortable, around him – because that’s how he made you feel. You shifted slightly and heard him tell you to sleep, to stop moving around and you apologized just as soft.

He sighed and kissed the back of your neck. _“Love you.”_ He said sleepily, and you swallowed the lump in your throat at the words. You nodded and pressed back into him, telling him the same thing. He liked that memory, too.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hopefully this was easy to read and not difficult and spotty so
> 
> (ps i made my own timeline.)


	5. runt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stereotypes shouldn't be taken at face value.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i changed chapter four a little. i was talking headcanons w/ my pal and she was mostly the brains of discovering some stuff that can be disputed as canon/non-canon but that i'm using as canon. so :))

“You want to get our daughter a Rottweiler?” Donald asked, cybernetic-hand on his hip, his eyebrows raised as he stared at you outside of the shelter with Emily staring at the cats through the window. “We already have a cat, (Y/N), the hell’s she gonna do with a dog?”

“Emily or the cat?” You sighed, watching him.

He shrugged. “Either. Emily can’t handle a full-grown dog, ‘specially a biter and-“

“They have a puppy, alright? He’s a small guy, runt of the litter – y’know? It’ll be fine, Donnie. You, of all people, should understand that a stereotype shouldn’t be taken at face value.”

He stared at you, saw the puppy dog eyes you were giving him and rolled his own. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Neck tattoo… tough attitude, tough look? But you’re a sweetheart, aren’t you?” You asked softly, watching him look to Emily who was almost pressed up against the glass. “Besides, the puppy could be good for her.”

“Fine. If she _fucks_ it up though,” He whispered to you. “He’s comin’ back.”

“Alright!” You grinned, kissing his cheek and running to Emily. You held open the door and she walked through, Donald ushering you through before him. It wasn’t long before the three of you were in a closed off room, waiting patiently. Or, as patiently as possible. There were only two chairs, so you and Donald sat in them as Emily walked around the room, her blue eyes looking at the wall as her shoes squeaked every so often with every step she took. 

“Stop pacin’, you’re gonna make me puke.” Donald muttered, glancing at the wall. You saw the intense look suddenly glaze over Emily’s face but it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared the second your husband’s eyes flickered over your daughter’s face. “Just sit. I’ll give ya my seat.”

“I’m fine.” She said coolly, her tall and lanky form jerking to the right as the door connecting to the observation room opened. She heard a small sound and immediately stopped, Donald staying seated as you slowly stood. The small puppy the attendant was holding was eager to sniff Emily. “He’s so small!”

“He should get bigger,” The man assured. “With the proper diet and some good ol’ fashioned nurturing.”

“Can I pet him?” Emily asked the short man, watching him nod and carefully place the small dog, even by a puppy’s standards, on the cool metal table. He was energetic despite his small body. “Can we keep him?”

Emily’s eyes went to Donald, not even you. He nodded easily, watching as the puppy was quick to lick and gently nip at Emily’s hands. The young girl giggled and smiled at the black and tan puppy, thanking her father as Donald sighed and stood, going with the attendant to fill out whatever was needed. 

Emily was the one to carry the small creature, loosely covered in a blue blanket, up to the service desk as Donald finished the paperwork. “Got a name picked out?” 

Both you _and_ Donald looked at her. She gasped softly. “Wait, I get to pick?”

“Your dog.” Donald shrugged, scratching the back of his neck with his human hand. “Go ahead.”

You smiled at Emily reassuringly, knowing her mind was swirling with names before she looked down at the dog and grinned. “Daxter.”

“Thought ya were gonna name 'im ‘Tiny’ for a sec.” Donald laughed, scribbling the name down onto the piece of paper as the attendant waited. “Call ‘im Dax.”

“Yeah!” Emily said distractedly.

For a moment, Donald acted a tad… _beside himself_ because of the new addition to the family, but you pretended not to notice the chew toy and small container of treats he bought for the puppy as you and Emily made it out to the car, watching him haphazardly shove them into the bag the attendant had given him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jfc donnie just pet the dog
> 
> [ps, i named the dog daxter bc of jak and daxter. its one of my fav series and i wiSH THE REMAKE WOULD'VE HAPPENED FUCK]


	6. emily janet pierce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was a welcomed distraction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: this chapter contains CHILDBIRTH! if that makes you squeemish or whatever, don't read! i included a few things like the room smelling like blood or smelling stale, so if that makes you sick then don't read! basically, if anything having to do w/ childbirth freaks you out or makes you uneasy, please don't read. it's not necessary to do so for the plot its just kinda... a flashback chapter to emily's birth.
> 
> \- hopefully this isn't too difficult to follow and yeah, the procedure in which it follows might seem odd but i'm the author plus this is based off my pal's headcanon so

_You were cooking yourself a grilled cheese when your stomach flopped. At first you thought perhaps the smell of the cheese was going to make you sick like it had the previous week, but thankfully, there was no recognition there. You turned off the stove, pushing the pan backwards to the cold end of the stove as you carefully took the grilled cheese out of the pan. You put it on a plate and stood there for a moment, groaning when it felt like something was tugging, yet again, on your innards._

_You only realized what it was when you felt a sort of_ **drop __**_feeling._

_You walked – waddled – to your room and grabbed your small overnight bag, walking back to the kitchen. You took your keys off the hook and your purse off the table, remembering to grab the grilled cheese off the counter as you did._

_You saw your neighbor outside, the older woman waving to you before she noticed your slightly rushed walking. “Are you alright, dear?”_

_“Oh, I’m fine Hilla!” You told her, unlocking and opening the door. “I think I’ll be in labor in a few hours, however.”_

_The older woman’s smile dropped and she furrowed her brows, coming closer. “Are you able to drive?”_

_You nodded, tucking your purse and overnight bag into the passenger’s side of the beat up truck. You put your grilled cheese on top of the two and shut the door. “I am, but thank you for your concern.”_

_“Would you like me to call Donald?”_

_“Donnie? No, no! I’ll shoot him a text.” You told her calmly, waving her off as you waddled around the truck to the driver’s side, opening the door and raising yourself into the seat as quickly as you could without hurting or bumping your pregnant belly. You called out to your friendly neighbor through the window of the truck as you started it, pulling out of the driveway. “Have a good afternoon, Hilla!”_

_She nodded slowly, unsure of your actions as the truck puttered down the street._

_You made it to the hospital in a relatively quick fashion, taking a few minutes to eat your grilled cheese in the parking lot before taking your things and yourself into the non-emergency entrance. You checked yourself in after waiting for a few more minutes, watching the person behind the counter quickly call out for a wheelchair. You told her you didn’t need it, but she urged you into it anyway._

_You were wheeled to a room with your things and changed into a gown, the nurse beginning to ask a few questions for your history as you began pulling things from your bag, carefully setting them up on the small table near the couch in the room you had. You answered her questions easily and calmly, watching her scribble things down before you sighed._

_“Honey, you don’t need to rush. I’m in no hurry myself.” You assured, smiling at the woman who was just as young as you were._

_“But isn’t it scary?” She asked softly, eyes wide as she watched you shake your head and finish setting out your things. “I mean, if I didn’t have a hu-“_

_“Oh, I’m married.” You cut in, showing her your left hand. “That reminds me! I have to call him.”_

_She frowned ever so slightly. “I’ll add him to the page, then.”_

_You took out your phone and unlocked it, opening your message app before finding his name – at the top, of course – and quickly typed out a message which read:_ **“Take your time getting here, I’m not at the urgent point yet or at any urgent point, really, but I’m at the hospital. Our little girl will be here in a matter of hours. :) “ __**__

_It took him forty minutes to get there, well, thirty-nine but as he hauled ass to your room, a flurry of heavy steps and moving at breakneck speed, he found you. “You alright?”_

_You smiled at him, a bit of sweat beginning to gather on your brow. Your water had broken about ten minutes prior and ten minutes before that tiny contractions had started as well. “How’d you get off work?”_

_“Kinda easy when you’re already half out the door, yellin’ that your wife is in labor.” He replied smoothly, catching his breath from running down the hall. “Had some issues with parkin’, saw the truck outside, though. Parked a few cars down from it.”_

_“Oh, good.” You told him, ushering him forward. “It’ll be easy to find, then.”_

_“Ya sure you’re alright?” He asked, watching a nurse wander in as she handed you some ice chips and placed a new pillow beneath your feet. “You’re not screamin’ or-“_

_“Pfft!” You scoffed, bringing the cup to your lips and shaking some of the ice into your mouth. “It hurts, trust me, but I’m not gonna tear my throat up screaming.”_

_“Oh.” He whispered, voice soft and quiet._

_He sat beside you, listening as you talked about what needed to be done at home when you both got back home. He was almost flabbergasted with you. “I’m glad I put some things for her in my bag,” You sighed, rubbing at your brows. “We need to put her mobile up over her crib, alright? The one with the stars and the moon and the little glittery things.”_

_“I know.” Donald said, your cup of ice chips running empty as you finished them off. “I can go get you new ones, okay?”_

_“Thanks!” You smiled brightly, hiding the discomfort you were feeling. But once he left, you began crying and your doctor came in and checked you, telling you it was time and you wanted her to wait but she chuckled and said the baby wouldn’t and, as your husband struggled to find the ice machine, you began pushing and when he came back he heard your pained moan and that small little whimper noise you made to accompany it. He knew you were crying and it tugged on his heartstrings as he waited outside the door._

_The ice was already melting and he was just frozen there, unlike the ice in the little cup. He eventually moves into the chair to his left, waiting patiently as he listens to your door-muffled cries and the few nurses and the doctor urging you on and assuring you and praising your hard work._

_One of the nurses rushes out and he can smell the blood and everything else just waft out of the room and he turns his head and he stares at the wall across from him and he sees another man slump in the chair opposite him and he looks work out and Donald furrows his brows ever so slightly._

_The man sends him a weak smile and when he’s about to speak, Donald hangs his head for a moment. His neck hurts and he’s tired and he doesn’t want to be spoken to and then – oh shit – hears another cry and his heart_ stops _and he swears to whatever deity is out there that he can’t fucking breathe and his head snaps up and the nurse that came out is rushing back in and then another pops out beside her and smiles and asks if he’s the father._

_Before he can answer, however, he hears your weak voice call out to him – “Donnie?”_

_And he’s up and moving before he knows it, pushing past the nurse and slowly approaching you and he’s doing this sort of_ scan _because you’re crying and he can see that, but you didn’t scream you barely yelled but he can see the sheets are wrinkled where you were squeezing them and he can see a small tear in the immaculate while sheets and he frowns slightly and there’s something wrong, he thinks for a second, but there isn’t and the room smells stale, almost, and he is breathing weirdly because his heart is going_ so fast _but so is yours and you’re catching your breath and he does something dumb but he doesn’t know what else to do._

_“I got your ice chips.” He tells you, holding up the cup and you let out a wet laugh because the tears and the sobbing is coating your voice. “More like water now, but…”_

_He just noticed the bundle on your chest, your knees were blocking it. He pauses, stops walking, and he can hear his own cybernetic-hand whirring even as the nurses and the doctor’s steps sound in the room before they say they’ll be back in a few short moments, but it goes over Donald’s head._

_You’re exhausted looking but you’re still smiling as you watch him. “You can come see her, you know.”_

_He knows, he does know but he isn’t sure and he’s stepping closer and closer and he can feel tears coming to his eyes and he wants to vomit, in some way and then he sets down the cup and he sees her little legs kick at the blanket and she makes a small bubbly sound as his heart is beating even faster and he thinks he might pass out. He brings his human hand up and gently pulls at the blanket around the baby’s head, moving it and peeking over as the baby does the same and he’s greeted by bright, stunning blue eyes – **his eyes,** he realizes dumbly – and she smiles toothlessly at him and he smiles back and she’s got such an innocence in her eyes._

_How can he have made something so… pure? And he’s definitely crying a little and you’re making a soft sound and urging him to curl up beside you and he takes his boots off, takes off his scratchy shirt so it doesn’t irritate you or her even if she’s all wrapped up and he’s carefully squeezing in beside you and you can feel the bed dip, despite its plastic frame, because of his heavy, muscular body._

_You carefully place your little girl against his chest, doing what the doctor had done for you. You show him how to hold her, how to move her arms and before long you’re drifting off and then you’re curled next to him, bare chest under the cover as his legs are tangled with the blanket and the doctor comes in and sees him wide awake, right next to you. She smiles and she’s careful and quiet as she places a heavier blanket over the two of you and comes and checks on the baby on his chest and he hears you softly in your sleep._

_“Emily,” You say and he looks at you then the baby who is still watching him then to the nurse that’s suddenly in the room, holding the certificate that_ he needs to fill out just in case _and they’ve already got her little feet printed on there and you already signed it, apparently, and he’s moving carefully as to not stir her. You murmur something else and he knows you’re waking up so he freezes as the doctor watches as then you’re curling tighter around his bicep and just him in general and you whisper once more. “Emily.”_

_That’s what he puts on the birth certificate. He signs it, realizing he’ll have to hide her name from certain people in this god-forsaken world but he doesn’t care, it’ll be worth it. She squirms a little, and he notices that you’ve already put a middle name on the piece of paper – Janet, after his mother – and he feels his heart lurch again for the millionth time..._ Emily Janet Pierce, or EJ, _maybe, he thinks to himself as he’s handing back the paper and the black pen and he relaxes a little._

_He’s got a child now, and he’s going to do his best to be a **good father** from now on. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao the reader is a badass ps donnie tf "here's your ice" pierce


	7. full-Arnold-Schwarzenegger-commando

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You picked the wrong house, buddy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honest to god.,.,.,.,., this wasn't supposed to be the update for today, i was supposed to have this big over 4k chapter done and posted w/ badly written smut except for like... one part and weird dialogue but i wanted to post this bc i love donnie so !! also, if he seems ooc at the end?? cops tend to seem to pay more attention if you appear genuinely concerned......so......yanno.....
> 
> p.s: it took me so long to update bc i was focusing so hard on finals i got tunnel vision so !! sorry about that buds

Today was a... _slow_ day, to put it mildly. 

Donald was on the couch with Figaro on his lap, Emily was on the floor beside her father's legs with Daxter attempting to cozy up in her shirt.

Meanwhile, you were in the kitchen checking your neighborhood watch directory.

"Hey, did you know there was a break-in at the Morrison house?" You called out to Donald as you scrolled on your laptop, fingers tapping mindlessly against the counter-top as you read the report. 

"When?" He asked while turning down the television a little, Emily complaining only to move closer to it.

You shrugged to yourself, looking for the date for a solid thirty seconds before you gave up. You were about to call back when arms slinked around your waist and you yelped, swatting them.

"You're jumpy." Donald remarked, pulling you closer to him as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

"And you're too light on your feet!" You squawked angrily, sinking back into his grasp. "Anyway, I don't know when it happened. It says recently, maybe they didn't catch the guy?"

"Hm." He murmured into your neck, pressing a soft kiss there. "Not our problem."

"You're joking, right? They're our friends!"

"Terry and Pam-"

"It's Terrence. He hates when you call him _'Terry'_."

" _Terrence_ and Pam are _your_ friends, baby. Not mine."

"You still talk to them."

He sighed against your neck, his breath hot. "I'm the one who told them to get better security for their house, too. They should thank me, y'know? I told 'em before, now they've gotta listen."

"You poked around their entire place without asking during a party, Don!" You complained, turning slightly on the stool. "That's how you decided they needed better security!"

Emily walked into the kitchen, Dax in the pocket of her oversized shirt, the shirt which she no doubt _stole_ from Don's pile of old ratty ones, and grabbed an apple juice box off the counter. Figaro was following her, watching curiously as the lanky child poked the straw through the top of the box. Emily went to leave, even making it to the doorway before stopping.

"It happened three days ago." Emily sighed, sipping her juice box as she started walking again.

"How d'ya know?" Donald asked, standing up to watch his daughter.

Emily shrugged, making it back to the living room. She sipped at the juice box, the straw making an obnoxious noise. "It's all Teddy would talk about at school the day after it happened."

"Theodore!" You called after her, ready to announce why.

"I know, mom!" Emily called back, flopping on the couch and turning up the volume of her (and Don’s) cartoons. "He hates it when I call him Teddy."

You rolled your eyes, murmuring something about _like father, like daughter_ only to get a chuckle out of said father.

 

# x-X-x

  
You were sleeping soundly when a sudden noise roused you.

At first you thought it was Figaro knocking things off the counter in the kitchen, then maybe Daxter needed to get outside to do his thing – but he knew where the doggie pads were. You turned over, trying to listen more closely as you debated what it could be.

Emily, perhaps, getting a glass of water? _No, she sleeps with countless water bottles by her bed… Don gets on her case about it-_ You huffed, turning again as you heard another sound, this time causing you to sit up. You gracelessly hit your husband’s bicep, his sleeping form turning towards you, reaching for you only to find the spot empty. His hand hit your lower back as he swatted the air and he opened an eye, peering at you.

“What?” He asked groggily, watching you turn your head to look at him.

“I think someone is trying to get in.” You whispered, watching him sit bolt upright faster than you had. He immediately swung his legs out of bed, glancing at the keys for the gunsafe he kept beneath the bed. “Don’t you need it?”

He shook his head, pressing his cybernetic-index finger to his lips, urging you to be quiet. You’ve never seen him move so swiftly, you think, than watching him stand and move to the doorway of your room within the time it took you to blink your eyes. You watched the moonlight from the slightly drawn curtains wash over his shirtless form before he almost disappeared into the darkness of the hallway.

He went to Emily’s room first, seeing the door open slightly already. He saw Daxter sitting by her protectively as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, looking at her father with confusion written across her face. He smiled a little, amused by how such a little dog was so protective of someone.

He beckoned you from the room, softly telling you to stay with Emily.

“What’s wrong?” Emily whispered as you forced her from her bed. “Why is dad going full-Arnold-Schwarzenegger-commando?”

“Someone is trying to break-in.” You told her, watching her pick up Daxter as Figaro grumpily trotted by your feet. 

“To this house?” Emily said at normal-volume, you shushing her with such panic in your voice that she rolled her eyes. “They really should have picked another place, I mean, dad’s gonna annihilate the guy! I almost feel bad!”

“Emily.” She heard gruffly from downstairs, the tone of Donald telling her to _put a sock in it or so help me God_ getting her to shut up. “Stay upstairs.”

“Like hell.” You shot back, not seeing him as the four of you (Emily, you, Figaro, and Daxter) all descended the stairs as quietly as possible. Your steps creaked and the wood groaned beneath your attempts, you had no genuine idea how Donald – someone heavier than you in weight (all that muscle equals pounds, believe me) – managed to do it silently.

Half your brain ticked at his military days, the other half ticked at him sneaking out when he was younger to see you.

You watched a shadowy figure move outside your sliding door, attempting to unlock it with (absolutely) no luck. You watched as Donald motioned you back, at least heeding your husband’s warning as he carefully slid the latch off the door, turned the lock, and stepped back.

Your heart was hammering in your chest – what the _hell_ was he doing? Letting this man in your house? – you watched as Figaro went over to Donald, clearly wanting to fight the man outside. 

“What’s he doing?” Emily vocalized softly, watching from behind the corner.

Then, it hit you: if the attempted burglar enters your home, Donald has probable cause to beat the ever-loving _shit_ out of them. You watched in amazement as the door slid to the left, Donald waited _one, two, three_ beats as the person set foot in your home then you watched as the person realized their mistake as Donald’s hands yanked them back and his arm wound their way around the intruder's neck.

“Holy sh-“ 

“Emily, watch it!” You said in unison with her almost swear, watching your husband drag the burglar out as you heard sudden sirens. The sliding door's night-alarm was tripped because it was opened from the outside, not the inside. 

“Oh my God, what if dad k-“

“He won’t.” You said, moving with the struggling form of the burglar as Donald dragged him to the front lawn. “I was thinking he’d kinda beat him up a little, though.”

“King Kong smash the living hell out of him, dad!” Emily cheered, watching her father break no sweat as he dropped the man on the grass, the sirens entering the subdivision as neighbors’ porch lights came on and doors opened. You winced, knowing there’d be an update on the neighborhood watch site and that _your_ names would be on it and you wanted to groan because that meant a meeting with all the families and mostly the moms and you just weren’t ready for that, you almost told Don to let him go when –

“You picked the wrong house, buddy!” You hissed, watching Emily fly forward to inspect the guy.

“Is that Lainey’s brother?” Emily asked, peering at the guy from above as Donald waited for the police. “It is! Oh man, his parents are gonna be _PISSED!”_

“Emily!” You and Donald snapped in unison, your heart still hammering in your chest as neighbors and police drew closer. “Donnie, just have them get him off our lawn.”

He nodded curtly, meeting the police officer that got out first. The officer went over to him and spoke. “Who is it?”

“Lainey Caplan’s brother, uh, sir.” Emily informed, watching the man in blue watch her in amusement. “I think his name is Gerald? What kinda criminal name is Gerald, anyway? He could be committing grand theft auto and someone would go ‘Gerald!’ from across the street and it sounds so… odd? Like that rapper guy from years ago, my mom use to listen to him a lot, his music isn’t bad but I like Beastie Boys and Run DMC like my dad but-“

“Little girl,” The officer sighed, watching her frown. “We’ve got it.”

“Cool.” Emily muttered dejectedly, petting a whining Daxter. Figaro was watching from inside the house and you watched Pam and Terrence make their way across the street with Theodore in tow. “Can I go back to bed?”

“Yeah, Em, go on.” Donald nodded, watching the officer haul Gerald up by his hoodie. “Do me a favor, catch the guy next time before he gets to another house.”

“Seems like you protected yourself just fine, sir.” A shorter officer told Donald as he walked up, his eyes moving over Donald’s shirtless form. Donald crossed his arms over his chest, rolling his eyes as he nodded towards the house – silently telling you to go back.

“Not everyone can, though, officer.” He replied easily, turning his head in the slightest.

The first officer sighed, cuffing Gerald as he read him his rights. The shorter officer spoke, then. 

“Did he get inside your house?”

“Wouldn’t have dragged ‘im out otha’wise.” Donald muttered, softening his features in the slightest as you stayed where you were, waiting for him. “I was worried for my wife ‘n’ daughter, my pets – some sick kids tried to hurt my daughter’s kitty a while back, got ‘er away from ‘em jus’ in time.”

The officers shared a look. “We’ll need full statements.”

“And coffee.” You cut in, knowing you weren’t going to sleep again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow fuckin i love donald pierce more than i should whats good ya proud of me mom??
> 
> (emily is so... ready to go off on a tangent anytime, anywhere.)


	8. happy anniversary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is BAD the smut is BAD but i've spent too much time mulling over it so i'll post it and edit it if i think of anything and ps, send me ideas in the comments that might improve it?? idk im use to writing hard and fast sex in my smut stuff not slow shit or starting slow whatever anyway have fun.
> 
> (ps there's like... meat eating so like? sorry if ur a vegan or vegetarian i just... ye.)
> 
> warnings include:  
> \- face sittin bby  
> \- fingering IN THE CAR W/ SOMEONE NEARBY  
> \- doggy-style / missionary / idk  
> \- bad dialogue  
> \- waitress flirting w/ u and pissing off donnie  
> \- just read it idk im posting it bc if i dont i'll hate myself 
> 
> this is 6k words im DYING also like??? i probably could've written the clothing removal better gjhcgiacgi JSUT ENJOY

You were staring at the clock on your phone, sighing to yourself as you slipped on the pair of black ankle boots you were wearing tonight. Surely, going out for dinner did not mean you had to wear a pair of heels, right? 

Absolutely! Regardless of the occasion, you weren’t risking your feet aching when you were supposed to be having _fun_ and whatnot. Certainly, you wouldn’t risk it on your anniversary, either… but, after-all, Donald _promised_ he’d make it.

He was the one who, after missing or accidentally forgetting it a couple times, finally kicked himself into high gear and made reservations ahead of time by about three months.

(He would never tell you that half the times he missed it were on purpose because he didn't know how to celebrate being married to the most amazing person in the world – you would've likely laughed and told him to _"shut it_ thinking he was yanking your chain. Besides, one time he went to take you to the old theater you used to go to and ended up being stuck in a storm outside the old torn down theater that he _swore_ was there the day before.)

Donald made sure your parents had Emily for the day and the morning til afternoon following and he was also sure to buy you a nice burgundy dress with black heels – black heels you were going to regret wearing as you slipped off the comfortable boots to keep your promise that you would wear what he got you – and a nice silver necklace to tie it all together.

Really, he’d gone all out. You had tried to surprise him numerous times on your anniversary, but he always got jumpy when you came to Transigen and when you interacted with people he hadn’t – ahem – _talked_ to first, even when you just popped into his office and declared your plans for the special day, he told you he was sorry that he was busy and _left._

So, the anxiety settling in your stomach was not unwarranted and neither was the sigh of _I knew it_ that came when fifteen minutes had gone by and he wasn’t home – the same can be said for every fifteen that ticked by til an hour was up and you began reaching for the black heels you’d slipped on in a swap from your comfortable boots. You started for the buckle when suddenly, out of nowhere, as you sat in the foyer on the small couch there, the front door burst open and the doorway was filled with your husband’s form as you clutched your chest. 

“Jesus!” You screamed at him, standing clumsily. He grinned widely.

“I’ve never been mistaken for a God, ‘specially by my wife… that’s a new one.”

You dropped your hand, yanking your clutch off the couch as you stared at him. “You said six.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Seven.” He corrected and you felt a heat rise to your cheeks at doubting him before he spoke. “I – have you been all dressed up, waitin’ ‘round for me… for an hour?”

You looked down, kicking the toe of your heel against the carpet as you muttered. “Maybe.”

“Well,” Donald said slowly, stepping closer to you as he took your free hand – the one not holding your clutch – and squeezed it, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Ya look gorgeous, baby.”

“Thank you.” You whispered, smiling and getting that anxiety to disperse slightly. You looked him over, smiling a bit more. “You don’t look too bad yourself, cowboy.”

The look in his eyes changed as he tilted his head, lifting his cybernetic-hand upwards to tip a non-existent cowboy hat. “Ma’am.” 

You snorted a laugh and shook your head, pressing a quick kiss to his slightly chapped lips as you started out the door.

You were surprised you matched – and that he did so well at it, too. The burgundy dress you were wearing was the same color as his shirt, the top button was undone for that _sexy casual_ look he always seemed to go for. He had on black slacks and black leather shoes rather than his heavy boots he always seemed to wear and not to mention the black sports jacket he was wearing really added to his outfit. He looked… so unlike himself.

You didn’t mind, however, because that allowed for some more... welcoming air.

“You called Clay?” You asked softly, watching the older man smile gently at you. You smiled back as Donald nodded and, however unprofessional it was, it didn’t matter as you ran over to the man and hugged him tightly, kissing his cheek gently. “Haven’t seen you in forever!”

“Oh, not since little Emily hurt her leg from fallin’ outta the tree.”

“Well, little Emily’s now up to here –“ You gestured, showing her height compared to your husband’s, as you smiled proudly. “And still growing.”

“Your daughter’s gonna be a beanstalk, Mrs. Pierce.” Clay commented, opening the back door of the sleek black car for you. “Growin’ like a weed, already.”

“Don’t think she likes it too much.” Donald sighed, ushering you inside as he thanked Clay.

The older man chuckled warmly as he watched you two settle into the backseat. “Don’t think she has a choice, sir.”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Oh my God!" You gasped, slamming your right hand down onto your husband's leg as he chuckled. "Here? You must've had to fight tooth and claw for this!"

"Mmm, somethin' like that." Donald smiled lazily, feeling the car stop as Clay parked. (It wasn't a long drive, you realized, barely twenty minutes.) Your driver got out first, opening your door. 

"Mrs. Pierce," He said, gesturing outwards to the front of the restaurant before holding his hand out to you. "Don't want you trippin' on your way in." 

You took his hand, swinging your legs from the back of the sleek car. "Thank you, Clay."

"My pleasure." He said, smiling genuinely as you moved out of the way. You watched Donald scoot across the seat and stretch his legs out, standing tall. "Enjoy your dinner! I'll be circling the area, just send a message when you're ready."

Clay shut the door as Donald thanked him, watching the older man get back in and pull away as Donald stuck his arm out to you. You looped it through, grabbing onto his hand as you did. He smiled a little, allowing you to lead as you both walked in.

"Hello, sir!" The young woman at the counter greeted. "Name?"

"Pierce." Donald told her, watching you look around in awe. There was a large chandelier in the center of the room, a band was playing and there was even a room off to the left for couples to dance in. The music filtered in, you figured, from the main room. 

"Right this way." The woman said easily, motioning the two of you forward. "My name is Ileana. Your server, Giana, will be with you in a moment."

You saw the patio as you both were seated in the corner. There were gentle shadows against the wall, the air was just right and the candlelight offered for a more romantic setting. 

"Here is your reserved table." Ileana said, placing two menus down for the both of you. You of course, thought Donald picked it for all the previous reasons... in reality, it was because he had a vantage point of everyone and everything: the street, behind him, and all around the room. You saw her eyes flicker down to Donald's cybernetic-hand before she spoke. "I hope you enjoy your night!"

"Thank you!" You replied, watching as Donald pulled out your chair, allowing you to sit comfortably before pushing you in swiftly. He seated himself next, immediately picking up the drinks menu as he did. "What looks good?"

He shrugged, turning it over in his hands as he looked it over. "Champagne?"

You picked up your menu, nodding slowly as you thought it over. "That, or maybe some wine? Unless you want beer which, I don't even know if this absolutely _magical_ looking place has." 

He chuckled deeply, smirking slightly at your words. "They do, they jus' pour it into a champagne flute to make it fancy and all that shit."

You grinned, shaking your head. "Okay, so, I'm gonna get wine." 

Donald nodded slowly, setting down the drink menu before picking up his own. The waitress came over, setting down a small basket of cut up baguette with olive oil and garlic butter on two small dishes. 

"Hello!" She said cheerily, peering through her glasses at the two of you, mostly you, and speaking. "My name is Giana, I'll be taking care of you tonight!"

"Hello." You smiled, fingers smoothing over the menu.

"Do you know what you would like wise of drinks?"

"The smoothest red wine ya have." Donald told her, clearing his throat as he saw Giana's gaze flicker to you a tad longer than he liked.

"Alright! Are there any appetizers you'd like or do you need more time to decide?"

"Just a bit more time." You told her honestly, watching Donald practically staring holes through her. You furrowed your eyebrows, tilting your head and sending him a confused look. "Thank you, Giana."

"No problem! I'll be right back with that wine," She checked the place card sitting on the table. "Mrs. Pierce."

She darted away, doing just as she said she would. Donald flipped through his menu, glancing at you every so often then into the reflection of the window to your right. You glanced at said window, noticing Giana in the reflection. You scoffed, shaking your head. "Are you spying on her?"

Donald looked up, realizing he was not as subtle as he could've been. Not that he was trying, really. "She's lookin' at you all funny."

"She's our server, Don!" You told him, rolling your eyes as you found the choice of steak you were looking for. "Besides, she's supposed to look at me."

"Not like that." Donald muttered, finding his choice as well. "Checkin' you out-"

"She was not!"

"Only saying _your_ name," He muttered, clicking his tongue as he looked over sides.

"Donnie, she was _talking_ to me." You told him, setting down your menu. "I cannot believe you right now."

"I'll prove it." He told you, setting his own menu down. "When she comes over here again, make a joke. I guarantee she'll laugh more than she should. If ya won't believe me after that, put your hand on the edge of the table."

"Why?"

"She'll put 'ers on yours," Donald replied, watching the window as Giana started back to your table. "I know she will."

"I'm not turning this into a game!" You whispered as she got closer, setting down two tall wine glasses. "Thank you."

Donald watched you, urging you with his eyes. 

"Need more time?" Giana asked, pouring the wine after showing you both the label and talking about it for a moment. "Or are you ready?"

"We're ready." Donald replied, clearing his throat and sitting up straighter. 

"Alright, sir!" Giana took out her notepad and pen. "Go ahead."

"I'll have a t-bone steak with the mashed potatoes an' beans." He said easily, twitching his cybernetic-hand for a moment as he looked over at you.

"And how would you like that cooked?"

"Rare."

"Still can't believe you eat it bloody," You muttered, shaking your head. "Might as well just give you the cow."

Giana let out a laugh at your non-funny joke, and Donald tilted his head slightly, watching you with an _"I told you so"_ look on his face. 

"And for you, ma'am?" She asked after she recovered, smiling brightly.

You cleared your throat. "The filet mignon with the wine-marinated asparagus. Your chef can decide on its... doneness."

"That also comes with a small dish of mashed potatoes, would you like that as well?"

"Yes," You smiled, shuffling your menu to the side of the table. You set your hand down on the edge, glancing at Donald who was watching you. "Thank you so much, Giana."

Her fingers gently brushed your own, moving for the menu beneath your hand as she did before reaching for Donald's as well. "It's my pleasure, Mrs. Pierce."

"Could ya repeat it back to us?" Donald asked, watching her nod.

"One t-bone steak with a side of green beans and mashed potatoes, the steak cooked to rare. Along with that is one filet mignon, chef's choice of doneness," She giggled softly. "That has a side of potatoes and wine-marinated asparagus."

You both nodded, confirming your orders as she grinned. "Now, I do have to mention that because your steak will be rare and yours will most likely be medium-rare or medium, because that's how the filets are cooked, that there is a chance for-"

"We know." Donald said, watching her nod quickly. "Thanks."

"I'll have that out for you shortly." 

Once she left, you held up a finger. "Don't even."

Donald just smirked to himself and reached for his wine glass, tilting it slightly towards you as the dark red liquid sloshed towards you. "Happy anniversary."

You picked up your own glass, clinking the edge with his. "Thank you for this."

"Anythin' for you."

\- - - - - - -

"You look beautiful, by the way." Donald said, tearing (somehow politely) into his steak as you delicately cut into your filet mignon. "Did I mention that?"

"Mhm, I believe you did." You grinned, meeting his intense gaze. "You look handsome yourself."

"Aw, shit, baby... gonna make me blush." He told you, watching you shake your head as your grin widened.

"Yeah, yeah, you're gonna be a tomato before the night's through."

"We'll see about that." He replied, glancing around the room momentarily.

You silently ate for a few minutes, talking here and there. You both promised not to talk about Emily or work or anything that didn't have to do with now. You talked about new movies coming out, new shows, how your days were, how the food was - you even asked about dessert.

"I saw chocolate cake on the menu." You told him, sipping your wine. "It's one of those lava cakes, actually."

"I don't think we'll be needin' dessert." He told you honestly, polishing off his steak and potatoes before working on his small portion of green beans.

"Why?" You questioned, having already finished eating. He took a bit more time, liked to really savor it. "We have time."

"I know, but the kinda dessert I want isn't on the menu." Donald told you, and you watched his gaze move from his plate to your face and you immediately shifted in your seat. A gentle heat settling in your stomach as you felt your cheeks warm up ever so slightly. He stretched his leg under the table, and you felt his foot hit the bottom of your chair. You furrowed your eyebrows as he tugged his leg back, yanking your chair forward. You put your hands on the edge of the table to brace yourself. "It's right here."

He finished his green beans as you sipped your wine, the two of you waiting not so patiently for the check. His eyes were on you the entire time, watching you almost ferociously as you continued to shift under his gaze. You couldn't even meet his eyes, the heat pooling between your legs was almost too much already.

Giana came back with your check and Donald was quick to yank a wad of cash from his pocket, flopping what looked to be over a hundred dollars into the small leather book. He didn't even look at it when he handed it back to her, watching you rush to stand as he told her to keep the change, taking out his phone and sending a message to Clay.

You were both outside in less than a minute, waiting for Clay for only two. It felt like an eon, however, when Donald put his hand on your lower back. When you got to the car, Donald practically yanked open the door and shuffled you in, telling Clay to put up the divider. 

The older man raised an eyebrow as he did, but never asked a question as to why.

Donald's lips were on you in a matter of moments, teeth gnashing in an almost animalistic fashion as he seemed to be deciding whether to move slowly or push on. You were awkwardly pressed against the backseat, trapped between the leather and your all-surrounding husband.

He had a way of doing that; filling up space so... easily.

His fingers were unceremoniously pushing your panties to the side as he practically smothered you in kissed, teasing your slick slit with his deft fingers. He gathered your juices and carefully smoothed them over your clit, a relieved moan leaving your body as he did. Your back arched away from the leather seat, your chest pressing to his. His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, urging you to part your lips as you felt his tongue push past. 

The wet muscles slid expertly against the other, the two of you gasping for breath, you even more so as two of Donald's _cybernetic-fingers_ slipped inside of you. The feeling of the cool metal had you clenching, and the unexpected feeling of them inside of you had your orgasm practically launching itself at you.

"Don-" You whispered against his lips, gasping and moaning as he pumped his fingers into you, working you open. His fingers massaged that _special_ spot inside of you, enjoying the feeling of your thighs trembling ever so slightly. "Please, please!"

You hadn't even registered the car moving yet alone stopping, so when Clay called – _"We're here!"_ – through the divider, you whined and grabbed at Donald's shirt as he pulled his fingers from you. 

"No, please!" You told him, watching that wild and lustful look in his eyes grow at your desperation. You looked down and noticed the strain in his suit pants and you practically moaned at the sight, hearing Donald yelling his thanks as he adjusted your dress. 

Donald was handing money to Clay and watching you quickly scamper into the house, hearing deep laughs from both of them as you quickly unbuckled and kicked your shoes off then set your clutch down. You practically raced to the bedroom, going faster as you heard Donald behind you, closing and locking the door as he raced up the stairs, his long legs carrying him faster before he picked you up with one arm.

"Not fair!" You yelled, feeling his bicep against your ribcage as he carried you swiftly to the bedroom. "I don't do that to you!"

"Don't think ya could, baby." He said huskily, tossing you down onto the bed. You made an 'oof' sound at the action, always amazed by his sheer strength and power. "Dress off."

"Yes, sir." You told him, standing quickly and reaching around your back to grab the low zipper. You peeled it down, dropping your dress. You heard him groan at the sight of you – no bra on and almost already naked. "What? There would've been lines."

You went to pick up the dress as he kicked it to the side, causing you to gasp and scold him for it. He chuckled, hanging his suit jacket on the back of the chair in the room along with his shirt after he quickly undid the buttons. 

You watched him kick his shoes off, his socks coming with them before he began undoing his buckle. You swatted his hands away, pulling the leather through the metal buckle. You inadvertently tugged him closer, leaning up to kiss him as you did, one of his arms sweeping around your back to gracelessly slip his fingers into the waistband of your underwear. His other hand came up to your neck, gently resting at the base of it, his fingers stroking the soft skin there. You tugged his belt off the rest of the way, feeling his fingers gripping your ass as you unzipped his pressed pants, pulling them down his legs and tugging his boxers with them.

He hissed as his cock was freed, and you moaned softly at the sight. He was already dripping with pre-cum and you were already dripping. 

He stepped out of the clothes at his feet, picking them up and throwing them over the chair. He did the same with your dress before carefully leaning down, pushing his thumbs under either side of the fabric of your panties, carefully pulling them down and helping you step out of them.

He grabbed your hand, telling you that, despite the rush, he wanted to go a little slower. You whined at this, watching him lay back on the bed as you went to straddle him. 

You stopped at his pelvic bone, straddling his hips but when he swatted your thigh, urging you forward, you felt your heart begin to race further as he carefully positioned you over his face. 

"I love you so much," He whispered, leaning up to place a gentle kiss on your clit. You watched him beneath you, the proof in his eyes. He repeated himself, whether assuring you or him, you weren't sure. "I love you."

His cybernetic-hand came up to grasp one of your flesh hands, placing it on the heavy wooden headboard in front of you and above him. He put his cybernetic-hand on your hip to steady you and push you all the more closer to his face then, took your free hand in his own flesh one, squeezing tightly as his tongue flicked out, running over your slick folds.

You shivered as he blew cool air there, his eyes so sharp and focused and you felt like you were suffocating whenever you met his gaze, his eyes always on you – everywhere and anywhere – and you tried to focus on _breathing_ because in order to experience this, you needed to have oxygen in your lungs, _damn it._

Donald slipped his tongue inside your hole, slowly tasting you as best his could, being offered a better angle this way. You glanced behind yourself as he did this, seeing his cock aching for attention as he moved his legs up the bed, bending them at the knee to plant himself less awkwardly. You watched as his hips stuttered slightly, like he was attempting to thrust into nothing. Your hand tightened on the headboard as his tongue slipped out, flicking steadily over your clit before doing small figure-eights and laying his tongue flat, almost, to be sure not to miss a _single_ centimeter of skin.

"I love you." You heard him whisper again, squeezing your hand. He nipped the skin of your inner righy thigh, causing you to press down against his face a little more. "You're everythin' t'me, y'know that?" 

You whined softly, pulling your hand off the headboard to grab at his hair, yanking it and hearing him let out a moan. You ground against his mouth, careful to not _suffocate_ him as he so lovingly tended to your aching pussy. His cybernetic-hand massaged your hip, his thumb tracing small circles against the skin there, offering reassurance, in a way.

"I know," you told him, rolling your hips as you felt your orgasm approaching at his tender moves. "You're everything to me, too. I-"

You took a shaky breath as he sucked on your clit, causing your hip movements to stutter before he flattened his tongue against you again, practically teasing you. You yanked his hair again and he chuckled, hot breath against your most intimate area. He turned his head slightly, nipping the skin of your inner thighs once more as you squeaked.

"Slow an' steady, remember?"

You shook your head, a hazy feeling coming over you as an enthusiastic orgasm (mostly built up by desperation, thank you) washed over you at the same time. You ground down against him, sure to cover his mouth and jaw and chin and the hair there in your release, something you knew he wouldn't mind as he carefully, oh so _carefully_ , collected and took from you.

You stopped your hips, his hand on your hip squeezing ever so slightly before allowing you to carefully swing your leg off the one side of him, rolling onto your back. 

He moved slowly, pressing his human hand to the bed as he turned and settled on his knees between your legs, causing you to whine softly as you felt his cockhead brush against your slit. You moved your feet against the bed, trying to distract yourself as your inner walls continued to tense and pulse. Though, you couldn't help yourself from attempting to squeeze your thighs together around him as you knew his member was throbbing from the sight of it.

He chuckled deeply, his muscular torso keeping your legs apart. He took his cock into his cybernetic-hand, using it to slowly grind himself against your wetness. You cried out at the feeling, reaching a hand out to grab his shoulder. He looked mesmerized, almost, as he slid his cock over your aching pussy without much thought.

"Please, Don," you urged, watching him with wide and lustful eyes. His eyes had the same look, but the lust was more... wild. It always was with him, down to whatever primal core he had. "Please, I need you."

He nodded slowly, not wanting to tease for too long otherwise he’d come much too soon. He leaned forward slightly, his flesh hand taking its place by your head near the pillows as he pushed into you. You nearly sobbed at the relief, the empty feeling gone. You always felt so _full_ whenever he was inside of you, always having to take time to relish in the feeling. 

His cybernetic-hand rested opposite the other one, slowly shifting and pressing forward til his forearm was resting beside your head instead. As he did this, his entire body shifted forward, literally laying himself across you and pushing his cock as deep as possible within you in one fluid motion. You squeezed your legs around him, feeling his human hand move from the pillows to gently pull one of your legs up around his waist. 

You moaned as he went a tad deeper, resting inside of you at a perfect length. 

"Good?" He asked, his flesh hand still on your leg before it slipped down to your hip, up your ribcage and below your breast. "Baby?"

"Always." You whispered euphorically, already content with the feeling of orgasming once more. Although, you knew it wouldn't be that easy. Your gaze met his bright eyes. "When you're ready, Donnie."

His eyes shifted downward, watching as his hips moved back to pull his cock out of you almost all the way, the red tip throbbing inside you still. He moved his hips, pushing them forward as his mouth opened. You clenched around him, loving the feeling of being full and he felt _so fucking heavy_ and _thick_ between your legs and you could see the look in his eyes that _maybe_ he wouldn’t last long, but _fuck_ would he _try._

He dropped his head to your shoulder, beginning to passionately thrust into you – long and slow. He was doing his best, this you could see, to control himself. To make sure he didn’t go absolutely _animal_ and ravish you – but, you wouldn’t mind it, honestly, if he did.

“If you need to,” You gasped as his cockhead caught against a special spot inside of you, your fingers squeezing his shoulder as your other hand went to delicately rest against his ribs. He pressed his chest to yours fully, kissing your shoulder and collarbones and biting and sucking and leaving little marks all-along the area that you _know_ would be there for far too long after. “Go faster.”

His hips slackened in their movements, but only in the slightest. He made a soft sound against your collarbone, his hot breath hitting your skin as he rested both of his forearms a little further up yet still beside your head. You waited patiently, you knew what he was doing – he was trying to decide, really, whether he wanted to take you up on your offer or stay at this pace and tease the living _hell_ out of you but ultimately, himself, too. He seemed to make the decision in a split second shortly following, his lips pressing against the side of your neck as his hips started bucking almost feverishly into yours, his hips grinding helplessly against yours as his cock drove deep into you, your legs spreading as you clenched and unclenched, attempting to keep him inside of you.

You moaned encouragingly, feeling like you were perfectly surrounded by him as he pressed himself into you and onto you, in turn pushing you into the mattress. The mattress springs creaked softly and you were reminded of your near-rabid fucking as young adults, the fond memories clouding your mind as yet another orgasm threatened to wash over you.

“I love-“ He paused, a grunt escaping his throat as his painfully hard cock throbbed inside your pulsing walls, as his hips stuttered and threatened his pace with a sloppier one and then he was forcing himself to pull out of you, warmth flooding you as your body shook and trembled beneath him, your legs fitting around him loosely as if to attempt to pull him back in as your own orgasm took over, already feeling over stimulated as your thighs shook and your back arched, your legs continuing to shake around him. He laid there on top of you for a moment before speaking, his own orgasm retreating in the slightest. “…This.”

You turned over clumsily, getting on your hands and knees to show him what you knew he wanted – what you wanted, as well. He chuckled breathlessly, your own chest moving as fast as his was – your hearts beating quickly, moving in tandem with the throbbing between your legs. 

“Ya sure?” He asked softly, his cybernetic-hand resting against your ass. You nodded, wanting him in you again. “Need a verbal, baby.”

“Yes! Just _please_ – I need it, I need you.”

Before you could say anything, he reached forward and yanked two pillows out from under your hands, causing you to fall forward, your face against the mattress with your arms crushed beneath your naked chest. He tucked both of the thin pillows beneath your hips, his human hand gently tracing your ass as he lined his cock up with your wet slit.

He spanked you hard as he thrust into you, the pain and pleasure mixing as you cried out, bucking back against him as his cybernetic-hand found your hip, keeping you still against him as you tried to fuck yourself on him. He slowly moved your hips for you, thrusting slow and deep, leaning forward to press his chest to your back, pressing you further into the bed as you gasp and breathe as deeply as you possibly can before his pace is almost unforgivingly harsh and each thrust knocks the wind out of you – its so much, almost _too_ much – and he’s kissing your shoulders and neck and head, reaching his cybernetic-hand between the two of you to collect some of your own release and smear it across your clit, rubbing the nub in soft figure eights as you continue to spasm around him.

"Please, make me cum. Please, please, pleas-“ You whisper, his breath hot against your ear as he pants and grunts as he fucks you, his chest pressed to your back and your chest pressed into the mattress. You can feel everything inside of you, his cock leaving absolutely nothing untouched and its sending jolts of pleasure through you and– _“Oh God, fuck yes-“_

It’s much more animalistic, you dimly realize, as he’s pressing himself against you and moving his hips effortlessly back and forth as he slams them against you, his thighs hitting your ass and shoving you into the bed and the headboard and you’re bracing yourself against it, putting your hands there to keep you from hitting your head as Donald just _fucks_ you _raw_ and you’re not complaining as you whine and claw at the headboard, his fingers slick against your clit as he puts just the right amount of pressure there as he’s angling your body to meet his hips halfway, as he’s taking control and going from passionate to primal and you’re gasping _hotly_ and his breath is _ragged_ and neither of you can see straight let alone _think_ straight and- 

_“Oh my fuc-“_ You’re yelling then you’re quiet and you’re clenching and clenching and _clenching_ and Don is still going, he’s fucking you through your torn up orgasm and it’s _too much_ all at once and your legs are _shaking_ and your whole body just _trembles_ as you push back against him and his chest is pushing against you as his cock just _empties_ inside of you and he's slamming _deeper_ into you, if that's possible, and his breathing is ragged as hell and he's just fucking you still and you know he’s shaking right along with you, you know he’s borderline _lost_ it, and he’s almost frantic as he presses open mouthed kisses to your shoulders.

You’re struggling to hold the both of you up as you shiver and shake through your orgasms, your body begging to lay down and relax and you're sweating, you realize, and so is he and its _unbearably_ hot in the room all at once.

Donald goes to move back, goes to pull himself out of you, but as you shake from pleasure and as he trembles from love, your blindly grab his hip and wordlessly tell him to _stay_ and he doesn't pull out for a while. You're just shuddering as any little fraction of a movement causes you to clench around him still and its too much so he leaves you and lays beside you and you just _collapse_ and he's pulling the pillows from underneath you and you move your head so you can breathe _properly_ and he looks wrecked and you can almost guarantee that you do too and his flesh-hand reaches for yours and his wedding ring is digging into your skin as he squeezes your hand hard and all that's heard in the room is your heavy breathing and you've been _fucked_ so _deliciously_ that your ears are ringing and-

"Happy anniversary," He chuckles, his fingers twitching in the slightest. "You okay?"

You felt your mixed release leaking from you and rubbed your thighs together without thinking, nodding slowly to answer him while watching him carefully stand up. He came back a few moments later with two glasses of water, one warm washcloth and two cold ones. You hissed softly as he cleaned up your legs with the warmer one, careful to mind the sensitive area there. He then placed a cold one on the back of his neck.

You watched him set down the water before he turned you over, his fingers cautious against your cooling and sweaty skin. He hauled you up the headboard, but only slightly, putting a pillow beneath your shoulders before placing the second cold washcloth against your chest. You thanked him quietly, distracted as he handed you water.

He, of course, had to help you drink it because of how honest-to-God wrecked you happened to be. He settled back down, pulling you to him as you both settled in.

"Thank you for today." You told him once you finally got some brainpower back. "I love you."

Donald smiled a little, causing the same reaction from you. "Anythin' for you, baby."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im not great at smut aight so like lemme stop makin excuses hope u enjoyed bbies!!


	9. dinner.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Co-workers can be tricky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is so odd in my opinion like?? idk it turned out weird and the ending is kinda odd but things are coming together kiddies

Dinner was tricky tonight. 

You had one of Donald’s co-workers coming over and you had made a fine spread, really. You had dinner planned completely and dessert if they so wished. You were nervously bouncing on your heels as you laid everything out, counting place settings several times over as you fidgeted with your dress.

Donald was driving back with them, for what reason you did not know, but he was pretty set on it.

Their names were Travis and Oliver, not that you personally knew them, but you were excited to meet them both. 

Excited and nervous, obviously.

“Mom, it’ll be fine!” Emily groaned as she threw a juice box in the trash, looking at you in your flowy skirt and soft blouse, your smile false as you struggled to believe her. “You look nice, you’ve made plenty of food – how can they not like you?”

“I shouldn’t be getting a pep-talk from my daughter.” You told her, crossing your arms to attempt some semblance of control as she rolled her eyes. “Is that what you’re wearing?”

The lanky girl looked down at herself. She had on her nice jeans, no shoes and a long sleeve shirt that had the words _“#1 Supporter of Pluto”_ on the back with a graphic of the planet on the front. “What’s wrong with it?”

You shook your head, sighing once more. “Nevermind, nothing. I’m worrying too much. Your father said cas-“

“Casual, I know.” Emily huffed, going back to the stairs as Figaro suddenly appeared at the top of them, Daxter waddling around beside her. She sat down at the bottom, watching her beloved cat nudge her beloved puppy down the steps to teach him how to use them without Emily walking him up and down them. “Don’t sweat it, it’ll be fine. Dad’s got history with them.”

“I’d wish he’d tell me how, though.” You muttered, fixing yet another fork. Emily watched you, rubbing Daxter’s head as he planted himself beside her, Figaro watching with curious eyes at all he hub-bub going on. “All he said was co-workers and one of them, Travis, I think, is a military friend of his.”

“Want me to-“ Emily went to say something as you shot her a look, a knock emitting from the front door scaring the life out of you. “Must be them.”

You rushed to the front door, unlocking and swinging it open to see Donald on the other side. “Why’d you knock?”

He stared at you, smile on his face. “Give you a heads-up. Somethin’ wrong with that?”

You watched two men start up the drive and moved to fix your dress again when Don pushed the door open, stepping a fraction of an inch closer to you as he extended his arms and grasped your cheek with his flesh hand and your neck with his cybernetic-one, pressing his lips to yours before you had time to react. He kissed you quickly, mumbling something affectionate against your lips before he pulled back, glancing at Emily who seemed to be staring at the two men now behind him.

“You look beautiful.” Donald told you, stepping to the side as he released you. “Travis, Oliver, this is my wife, (Y/N). Emily, get your butt over here.” 

She huffed in response, hefting Figaro up under one arm and Daxter under the other. “Present and accounted for.” 

“This is my daughter, Emily.” Donald introduced, putting his flesh hand on her head to ruffle her hair, the girl ducking away a bit at the action. “Come on in!”

“Who are these two cuties?” Oliver asked, the shorter of the two. He didn’t share the accent that Donald and Travis did, although even Travis’ was thinner than Donald’s. “I have a Russian Blue myself, she’s absolutely the sweetest cat I’ve ever met.”

Emily’s eyes lit up as you all backed into the house. “This is Figaro! We’ve had her a long time, and this is Daxter – we just got him. I use to have some fish, but they’re no longer around. I might get some more soon.”

You shut the door as Travis extended some flowers to you, something you hadn’t noticed before. “I was gonna bring food but Oli said flowers might be better… The boss said you like ‘em, too.”

You raised an eyebrow at this, looking at Donald taking his coat off and hanging it in the hall closet, offering to do the same with Oliver’s. “The boss? He calling himself that now?”

Travis chuckled deeply, getting a smile from you. “Nah, kinda called ‘im that since we were in-“

“Trav, lemme take your coat.” Donald said suddenly, causing Travis to nearly jump at the proximity of the man. “Now, if ya don’t mind.”

“Thank you, Travis, for the flowers. They’re lovely.” You rolled your eyes at your husband as you walked to the kitchen, attempting to find a vase. You ended up using a jar, setting the flowers down on the dining room table. You watched as Emily talked with Oliver who seemed genuinely interested in whatever she had switched topics to. Oliver also, much to your surprise, had Figaro flopped in his lap from his spot on the couch. “Would you like drinks first or would you just like to dig in?”

Travis glanced at Donald who was still standing awfully close to him then to Oliver and Emily before sighing. “What do y’want, Mrs. Pierce?”

“You can call me (Y/N), Travis.” You told him with a pleasant smile. “I guess we could eat now?”

x-X-x 

“This chicken is quite lovely, (Y/N).” Oliver complimented, forking another piece of the tender meat as you grinned around the brim of your wine glass. “Really, if you don’t mind – could I get the recipe?”

You glanced at Donald out of the corner of his eye as his hand came down on your knee, pushing back your dress to gently tap the skin there. He knew it relaxed you and he began rubbing small circles with his thumb, using his other hand to bring his own wine glass to his lips. “Em, why don’t ya tell Oliver ‘bout the science program that’s been added to your school. He’s big on that sort of stuff.”

“Really?” Emily asked, testing to see if he was messing with her or not. “Are you?”

“I’m co-contributor to the research department at Transigen,” Oliver nodded, switching gears from his previous chicken inquiry. You saw the muscle in Donald’s jaw tighten out of the corner of your eye, the look in his eyes changing momentarily. “Travis isn’t the only busybody around there. Working security with your father.”

You found yourself glancing between Travis and Oliver, your eyes narrowing slightly as you saw Emily’s gaze shift to you then to her father who was watching his co-workers closely. “I thought it was just Travis who worked with you, honey.”

“No, no. Travis is the one who was in the military with me, they both work with me, though.” Donald replied, still leaning slightly back in his chair with his hand on your knee. You cut into your chicken a little more, forking some of it as you watched everyone’s gazes shift. “They’re both numbskulls but I wouldn’t trade ‘em for the world.”

This elicited a nervous chuckle from Travis as Oliver smiled and you returned it. “Anyway, tell me about your science program.” 

Emily began rattling things off to him, but you saw her head tilt slightly anytime Oliver was about to weigh in, her eyes narrowed and her fingers twitched against the edge of the table. She got this look in her eyes, the light from the ceiling glaring against the blue she got from her father. Her eyes got that same dangerous look in them as her father, except on a smaller scale. 

She knew something you didn’t. She was reading the situation better, it seemed, and that caused you to nudge away Don’s hand. He gave you a look, either dejected or confused, you didn’t know.

“I say, when you guys are done with dinner, we’ll maybe loaf around for a little while then get some dessert, how about that?” You threw into the air, getting nods and some verbal confirmations from your guests. You frowned and decided that, as some growing suspicion grew in the air, you’d have to have a talk with Donald later.

After all, you didn’t like that he literally took his co-worker aside to get him to not talk to you about _something_ then got visibly distracted and semi-agitated as his other co-worker began talking about work – something you recognized all-too well.

You knew Donald hated talking about work, hated bringing it home but sometimes… it seemed odd how much he avoided it.

 _Yeah,_ you told yourself. _Have to talk to him._

x-X-x 

It had been a few hours since Travis and Oliver had left. You were retiring for the night and, apparently, so was Donald.

“She’s on the couch watchin’ cartoons. Got a bowl o’ Capt’n Crunch with ‘er.” He told you, unbuttoning his shirt to drape it over the chair near the wall. You were already in bed, reading an old book – well, you’d stopped reading it when you saw him come in. “I told her to be in bed by 11:00. Thought I’d give her a little leeway, what with our company and all that.”

You looked at him over your book, watching him drape his pants over the chair as he put his shoes on the rack he had. You watched him strip off his undershirt, as well, throwing that into the hamper with his socks. He went to the bathroom and began his nightly routine. You had been formulating what you were going to say for a solid hour, dropping your book down in your lap. You folded the edge of the page down, closed it and set it on your nightstand. You pushed back the light blankets, walking past the quiet fan on your way to the bathroom.

You paused for a moment, looking at yourself in the mirror by the closet. You took a deep breath, shook your head and adjusted any loose strands of hair. 

“We need to talk.” You told him, standing in the doorway to watch him floss. He glanced at you, throwing away the string before reaching for his toothbrush. “Donnie?”

“Can we do it some other time?” Cinnamon toothpaste was delicately squeezed onto the bristles of his brush. You watched him begin brushing. “I’m kinda busy.”

“No, now’s perfect.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest. “Why did you keep cornering Travis?”

“I didn’t corner ‘im.” Donald replied, brushing a little harder than usual. He leaned over the sink, staying there just in case. “Why’d you ask?”

“Anytime he went to talk about work, you sent him a damn death glare. Same with Oliver. Anytime either one of them went to say something remotely conversational, you looked like you wanted to kill them. Is your jealousy really that out of control that people can’t even talk to me?”

He continued brushing, shrugging his shoulders slightly. “No.”

“Then what is it?”

“There’s other things to talk ‘bout.”

You scoffed, waving one hand around before putting it on your hip. “Really? You wouldn’t even let them say anything to begin with!”

He didn’t reply, still brushing his teeth before he spit, rinsed, gargled some mouthwash and then dried off his chin. You watched him the entire time. He went to leave the bathroom but you stood in the doorway. 

“I could move ya.” Donald said honestly, standing close to you. “I’m tired, let’s not do this.”

“Then answer my questions.”

“I have been!” He told you, stepping back to lean his lower body against the sink cabinet. “What the hell do ya expect me to tell ya, baby?” 

“The truth!” You shouted, watching his eyes darken. You swallowed, standing taller. “I’m sick of you brushing aside my questions all the time. I see you working on something, I come over to ask about it or even say hi and you get jittery, you close whatever you’re working on and open something else. So, either you’re watching a lot of porn that you don’t want me to see, or you’re up to something you shouldn’t be.”

“It’s classified stuff, baby. They’d have my ass if-“

“I’m your wife, damn it!” You told him, angrily shifting your body. “Classified doesn’t mean top secret!”

“In this case,” Donald said, tilting his head. “It does.”

You stared at him. “You won’t let me visit you at the office.”

“I’m busy.”

“You go on a lot of ‘business trips’.” You said, using air quotes. “You sound… out of breath when you call me, sometimes. I hear voices in the back, ones you yell at to quiet down. You drive off early in the morning and come back late the next day.”

“So?”

You bit your lip nervously, your brain jumping to conclusions. You didn’t think he was, but, you needed to rule out anything you could. “Are you having an affair?” 

The look on his face shifted from irritated to positively soft. He came forward, grasping your face in his hands. He looked you dead in the eyes, shaking his head as he pressed kisses to your forehead, temples, nose, cheeks, chin and lips. “No, _never._ God, I’d drive off a cliff if I did. I would never do that t’ya, couldn’t, really.”

You blinked back a couple of tears. You forced your best broken voice. “Then what is it?”

He sighed, looking around like he’d find an answer. “I can’t tell you. Not now, anyway.”

“When, then?” Donald shrugged, watching you grab his wrist and pull his hands from your face. “When, Donnie?”

“I don’t know.”

You decided, then, that the following day you’d take a trip to your mother’s house. You wouldn’t tell Don, but you would leave Emily. You felt horrible for doing it, for wanting to leave your daughter there – but he acted a different way when you weren’t around. He acted, sometimes, like Emily couldn’t understand him.

The issue (or blessing) was, however, that Emily tended to pay far more attention to average things than other people. It was safe to assume, that, despite Donald’s truth-hiding tendencies, you’d get to the bottom of it… one way or another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> donnie doesn't give emily the credit she's worth. (and you probably give her more than she deserves, but that's neither here nor there.)


	10. even stone can crack.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donnie's military days.
> 
> (Warning: writing this actually gave me a headache, so... be careful?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter gave me a headache tbh. anyway, this contains stuff from the timeline my friend and i created but that i further fleshed out. this is dialogue heavy and contains flashbacks for about 95% of the chapter. everything flashbacky is in italics. the spacing sucks, i know.
> 
> warnings:  
> \- mentions of parental abuse  
> \- depictions of parental abuse  
> \- guns  
> \- smoking  
> \- swearing  
> \- gunfire  
> \- hints at war  
> \- limb loss  
> \- death of a friend  
> \- death talk  
> \- graphic fighting  
> \- blood  
> \- this chapter is a lot tbh but i still think its Bad the spacing is Bad everything is Bad

“You ever think back?” Mohawk asked, watching Donald get settled on his couch to begin reading reports. “To the military days, I mean.”

Donald shrugged, taking the report pad from Mohawk’s hand. “Can’t say that I do.”

Mohawk left, sighing to himself. “I’m going to go flirt with your secretary.” 

“Do what ya want, she won’t like it.” Donald told him, hearing his steps stop for a minute. “You’re not Betty’s type.”

“Alright, what is her type?” Mohawk asked, walking backwards a little bit.

Donald’s lips tugged into a grin, his eyes focused on the illuminated screen. “Karla over in DNA research.”

“One of Oliver’s underlings?” Mohawk asked, getting a nod from Donald. “I may as well just lay down and die.” 

Donald rolled his eyes at the exaggeration. “Also Jamie in Human Resources.”

“Girl or a guy?” Mohawk questioned, still standing facing the hall.

“Fluid.” Donald replied, hearing the bulky man groan and march down the hall. He chuckled to himself, shaking his head as he continued looking at the screen. “Alrigh’, got a break in at the bottom level. Cleared that out –“

>>>XxX 

_“Hey, you think Will would be down to-“ Travis began before said man marched through their barracks just as he began speaking. “Nevermind.”_

_Donald laid out his cards, cracking his neck slightly as everyone at the table groaned. “Somebody deal.”_

_“You’ve won every damn time we play, it’s starting to get boring.” Bone Breaker muttered, Mohawk agreeing as Travis cracked his knuckles. “I can’t keep betting cigarettes and expired chex mix.”_

_“Sure ya can,” Donald drawled, his skinny body moving slightly. “I need ‘em, anyway.”_

_“No, you need to bulk up or James is gonna be crawlin’ up your ass about it.” Travis told him honestly, taking all the cards into his hands to shuffle and deal. “I mean, we’re new here. We all have to be in tip-top shape according t’him.”_

_Donald rolled his eyes, a bit of anger coming out. “We always hav’ t’be in ‘tip-top shape’ accordin’ to that fuckin’ prick.”_

_“What prick?” Daniel James questioned, their CO for the time being. “Now, I know you are **not** talking about me, Donnie.”_

_“Don’t call me that.” He told him, speaking towards an authority figure like that would surely result in something bad. James came around to look down at him. “I mean it.”_

_“Alright,” James muttered, moving quick to kick Donald’s chair from under him. The younger man, however, stood before he could fall. James laughed heartily, looking at everyone with hard eyes as they watched with baited breath. “You’re a quick little rat, Pierce. Let’s see how fast you can run that special course outside, huh?”_

_Donald, the taller man in the situation, looked at his much shorter CO. “Gonna time me?”_

_“I’m gonna beat you bloody if you don’t shut your trap.” James yelled, causing the other men in the room to jump slightly. “Now, get your scrawny ass outside.”_

_That is how most of the other men believe Donald got so fast, so quiet and so big so very quickly. It was from that course, from mouthing off til he became silent. Borderline hyperventilating his oxygen instead of his words. He ran that course, beat his times, he trained aggressively to be able to pull himself up on the dumb thing James ordered him to, he got fewer punishments because he got quieter and because he got bigger._

_If you wanted to ask Donald Pierce to do something for you, you’d ask Mohawk or Bone to get him, or even Travis, but you’d never go to him directly._

_Daniel James became proud of the man Donald turned into, the man he became._

_Maybe he shouldn’t have been._

_> >> XxX_

_“Come on, hit me!” Mohawk screamed, shirtless as he pounded his chest. Cassidy was moving around him, the two between a ring of people. “Come on, Cassie! Hit this big wall of muscle!”_

_Cassidy was a much less muscular man, usually left to deal with communications, therefore unrequired to do much of anything. Sure, he had a little muscle, but Mohawk was… impressive._

_Donald was sitting on his bunk, one arm tucked behind his head as he stared at the picture taped to the bottom of the bunk above his. It was a picture of you, his fingers tracing over your eyes, your lips, and your chin. He made a soft sound when he poked where your nose was in the photo. He heard a sudden roar of a man and a scream of another over the cheering as skin hit skin._

_He wasn’t going to do anything, wasn’t going to move but he heard the sudden cry for help from Cassidy and people kept watching. Donald swung his legs out of the bunk, moving fast, the situation reminding him of something close to him, big man against small kid, bruises, bare-knuckle beat down – “Hey!”_

_The moment Mohawk went to turn, Donald jumped on his back, heels digging into Mohawk’s pelvic bone as his legs wound tightly around him, right arm against the man’s neck, squeezing off Mohawk’s air supply as Donald’s left arm pushed against his forehead. From his position, everything seemed to move in slow motion. He saw Cassidy on the ground, saw him on his side. He was holding his stomach, angry bruises already forming, blood on the floor beside his mouth, a tooth on the ground. He was coughing, unable to stand as he curled in on himself as protection._

_Donald saw this and his grip tightened, his body coiling like a snake. He felt the crowd part behind him as Mohawk ran backwards, slamming Donald into the wall. The taller man stayed on him even after being knocked into the wall five times. He told himself to hang on, told himself not to let go, but his brain was screaming at him._

_**Mo isn’t your father. He’s not your father. Cassidy is not you. Cassidy is not –** With every hit against the wall, Mohawk struggled. Donald finally let his throat go and brought his leg around Mohawk, kicking his knees to bring him down. He carefully crawled off him. **But he’s a bully, too.**_

_Donald crawled over to Cassidy, the group of people dispersing slightly as Donald’s wild eyes surveyed the smaller man. “Cass?”_

_The man couldn’t move, his arms curled protectively around the offending area. “No more.”_

_**Not you.** He glanced at Mohawk, the larger man slowly moving. **Not your father.**_

_“Cassidy, I gotta get you to the nurse.” Donald muttered, attempting to lift him without hurting him. The man winced, crying out as he was shifted. “Just-“_

_Donald was suddenly grabbed around the ankle, he snapped his head to the right, seeing Mohawk holding him. He began up his body, raising his fists to strike Donald’s chest, causing him to let out an angry cough. He continued doing this, or attempting to, as Donald used his forearm to push back against Mohawk’s wrist and kick his crotch, sending him falling backwards._

_Donald scurried forward, grabbing Cassidy with one arm beneath his knees and the other behind his shoulders as he cried out._

_**Not you.** He looked down at Cassidy, his eyes meeting a boy’s face, tears streaming down them from the pain. **You.**_

_He glanced back at Mohawk, the man lying flat out on the floor as people stood over him. **Your father.** _

_He rushed to the med bay, his eyes wild as he got there. “Holy shit! What’d you do this time?”_

_“Not him, it was Mohawk. Beat the shit outta Cass.” Travis said behind him, breathing a bit heavily from having to run behind Donald who wouldn’t slow down. “I told you to stop running.”_

_“I wasn’t running.”_

_“I’ve never seen you move faster.” Travis shot back, hand on his side. “Holy shit.”_

_Grant rolled his eyes, gesturing for Donald to set Cassidy down. “Jesus Christ, he’s gonna need an implant for his damn tooth. That’s God awful looking, Mohawk fucked up the surrounding area. Somebody needs to get that prick in check.”_

_Donald’s tongue ran over his gold tooth, his eyes blinking slower than normal as everything became muffled. He faintly noticed one of the medical personnel checking beneath his shirt at the red bruises, waving him off as Travis tried to get his attention. Donald sat down in the uncomfortable chair across from Cassidy, silently stating he’d stay there with him._

_> >> XxX_

_“How’d you get that gold tooth?” Cassidy asked, sitting in the front of the Humvee as he glanced back at Donald. The latter was typing away at a laptop, deft fingers working as he moved his broad shoulders to the beat of whatever rock song was playing from the radio perched on the roof of the truck. “Don?”_

_“CO, remember?” He replied, cigarette dangling from his lips. He was working on something, a mock file – Cassidy wasn’t sure. It looked like Don had been toying with some dangerous shit that Cassidy didn’t want any part of. “James beat the damn thing outta my skull.”_

_“You had it before then.” Cassidy said timidly, wiping some sweat off his brow. His fatigues were being peeled off in layers. “By the way, you’re not even supposed to have that thing out here. We’re supposed to be cleaning good ol’ Eveline.”_

_“I still don’t think that’s a good name for the Humvee.” Donald replied, throwing his cigarette out the open door. “I got the tooth from my dad.”_

_“Pretty sure gold teeth aren’t genetic.”_

_Donald typed something then he was shutting off the laptop. “Ya know how he is, Cass. I’ve told ya, you’ve met the guy.”_

_“Yeah, I just… don’t wanna assume.”_

_“Your assumption is proba’ly correct.” Donald muttered, leaving the laptop in the Humvee as he climbed out of it, already having peeled off his jacket and thrown his hat over the laptop along with it. He had Cassidy come out to join him. The two began working on the engine as Donald talked. “Wanna know that bad?”_

_“Not if it’s gonna excite some memories.” Cassidy told him, scratching the back of his neck. Donald looked at the man. “I mean it.”_

_“I got shoved into a workbench,” Donald started, grabbing a rag off the edge of the bumper. “I was usin’ his tools, fixin’ the truck my mother gave me.”_

_“Didn’t like it?”_

_“Told me I should stick to bruisin’ on the football field like the knucklehead I am instead of doin’ somethin’ complicated like fixin’ a beat-up truck.” He said, making his voice gruffer like his father’s as he checked the oil. “I think that was the first time I hit him back.”_

_“Good for you.”_

_“It only made him angrier, Cass.” Donald rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “It didn’t feel good, but that was the summer I’d taken up boxing at the shitty gym near my house. My coach told me that if someone hits you, you hit back. You hit ‘em til they’re down, you gotta hit ‘em harder than they hit you.”_

_“What happened?”_

_“Grabbed me by the shirt,” Donald said, gripping his own shirt, rag still in hand, as he mimicked his father’s fist against his jaw. “Hit me righ’ ‘ere, then he hit me ‘ere. Missed once, knocked his fist into my nose and bumped my upper tooth. Knocked the sucker righ’ out. Went to the take care center on the corner, got sent to a hospital. Yada-yada, shit happened, I got a gold tooth outta the ordeal.”_

_“Sorry I asked.” Cassidy muttered, grabbing a sponge and a bucket of water._

_“Don’t be. I usually just say I got it in a fight.” Donald said lightly, rolling his shoulders out. “Don’t forget to hose the Humvee off.”_

_“Eveline will be sparkling!”_

_> >>XxX_

_“Fuck!” Donald screamed, holding his bloody limb to his chest. It was covered in torn clothing, the blood seeping through. “I got – where’s Cassidy?”_

_“We gotta get you to the tent, Pierce!” Terrence called, sliding to him as enemy gunfire rained overhead, everyone ducking at the sound and returning fire upon clearance. “Got you damn hand blown off!”_

_“Where is Cassidy?” Donald yelled, his body convulsing at the loss of his hand. “I need to get him.”_

_Terrence didn’t reply, pulling Donald to his feet. Donald shoved him with his left hand, eyes wild, ash covering his face as he kept pushing his friend back. “He didn’t come out!”_

_“What!?” Donald screamed, ignoring his body, ignoring the bloodshed and screaming and gunfire as he clutched his forearm. “I was holding him!”_

_“You were dragging him out by a fuckin’ broken strap, Pierce!” More gunfire sent Terrence pushing him back and attempting to pull him by the straps on his vest to safety. “Got your hand blown off trying to save him!”_

_“He’s alive.” Donald replied, shaking his head. He fought Terrence off, running back to the nearly levelled building he’d been thrown from. He started kicking at rubble, his hand throbbing now. It felt nearly numb, he felt like he was going to pass out. He looked for the smaller man, the cinnamon brown eyed, tan skinned, black haired man that he given his life to run into that building and scream at Donald that there was a shooter outside and handed Donald his weapon. He knew he was a better shot, but not good enough, apparently, as Cassidy was downed and – “He’s alive, Terrence! I saw ‘im, I was holdin’ ‘im!”_

_“He. Is. Dead!” Terrence screamed in his friend’s face, shaking him. Donald had tears on his face, he hadn’t even realized he’d been crying. “Stop your bitch crying! He is dead! He died! We cannot go back!”_

_“Gotta get him home.” Donald said, watching Mohawk come out of his peripheral vision to help drag him. “His momma’ll bury an empty casket otha’wise.”_

_“It’s happened before.” Mohawk added._

_“Shouldn’t now.” Donald said, his head swimming. His vision got blurry, he looked at the bloody rags covering his stump. His hearing sounded as if water was flowing through his ears. “I’m gonna hurl.”_

_“Not on me, you’re not.” Mohawk sneered, walking faster as the sound of gunfire became distant. Donald’s vision was turning black and suddenly his body slumped forward. “How’d it only get his hand?”_

_“It got half his forearm, Mo.” Terrence replied, shaking his head as he tried not to look. “Got all of Cassidy.”_

>>>XxX 

“Hey, Mr. Pierce?”

Donald startled, looking over his shoulder. “Need somethin’?”

Betty nodded, pushing her glasses up her nose slightly. “I was about to order some food, figured I’d offer.”

“Oh, I’m –“ He held his stomach with his right hand, the whirring sound of his hand caused him to blink rapidly, his shoulders shaking. “I’m gonna hurl, I think.”

“Need me to call somebody?” Betty offered, immediately going to Donald’s fridge for a bottle of water to hand to him. “Sir?”

“I – Call my daughter’s school, tell ‘em I need somebody to drop her off at home.” He shook his head quickly, his body protesting the rapid movement. “I might need to be driven home.”

“I’ve never seen you like this, did something happen?”

“Bad memories.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk


	11. decisions.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your father and mother are always happy to see you... but under different circumstances, perhaps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> congrats the reader has lovely people as parents and kinda stereotypical too but like..... enjoy it babies
> 
> excuse any weird spacing Please™ next chapter i think i'll start indenting each paragraph?? it looks easier on the eyes tbh
> 
> (HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BOYD!!!!!)

You’d reached your parents’ house quickly, practically flying down the highway as you pressed your foot down onto the accelerator. When you actually got there, you waited outside for some time. Your hands were on the wheel still, your bag beside you as you stared at their door. You sighed to yourself, wondering if you should go in. 

Surely, you realized, one of them had to have already seen your piece of shit pickup truck that Donnie insisted on keeping. Yeah, it was from a much simpler time when you were both younger but…

You stopped thinking, moved your hands, unbuckled your belt, grabbed your bag, and went up to the dark door of your parents’ humble abode. You knocked softly, knowing they preferred it to having themselves scarred shitless by the doorbell. The door opened within the minute you had knocked, your mother greeting you with a large smile and a warm hug. 

“I’m so glad you’re here!” She told you, kissing all over your face. “You can help me with dinner! You’re just in time!”

“Not even through the door and you’re already employing me.” You laughed softly, kissing her cheek as you pulled away, watching her smile a bit more tenderly.

“Don’t expect me to pay you, sweetie.” She replied, motioning you inside. You set your bag beside the table near the door. “C’mon. Your dad’s out in the garage, but he’s making something special so we’ll just leave him out there.”

“You think he’d mind if I popped in to say hi?” You asked, watching her shake her head as she shut and locked the door behind herself. “I’ll be right back.”

You made your way to the garage, hearing power tools as you pushed open the tan door that connected the garage and the house. It reminded you of Donald, a little, considering when he wasn’t super busy or needed to clear his head, he’d be out in the garage tinkering with that damn motorcycle he bought a while back or building some new piece of furniture you didn’t need or improving another piece. 

“Hey, sweetheart!” Your dad called over his shoulder, not even having to look to know you’d come out to the garage. “Now all I need is to have my other favorite daughter in the house and I’d be peachy.”

You scoffed, watching him stop whatever he was sanding to turn around on his squeaky stool and face you. You bent down and hugged him tightly before pulling away, kissing his cheek as you did. “You can’t have two favorites.”

He stared at you, eyebrow raised. “Sure I can. Who is your favorite parent?”

“Can’t choose.”

He rolled his eyes, poking your arm gently. “Nice try, it’s your mom, isn’t it? I knew this day would come! The day my baby picked someone else over me! Well, how honored I was to have hung in the balance before –“

“You are such a drama queen, holy shit!” You swore, laughing as you threw your head back, his own smile lighting up.

“I’d like to thank the academy or whatever the hell those stars say.” He paused, glancing over his shoulder at his handiwork before turning back to you. “Don’t let your mother hear you swear, she’ll still rant about it like you’re sixteen and treat you like you’re eight.”

You nodded slowly, trying to peek over his shoulder before he blocked what he was working on with a slight move of his body into an upright position: standing up. “Get your butt back indoors, this is a super, top secret project that you won’t get to know about til you’re on your way to bed.”

“Ooh, will it be done by then?” You asked, having him turn you around and shove you gently back to the door. “Dad!”

“Yes!” He told you, opening the door and shooing you indoors past your mother’s gardening room. “Now, skedaddle!”

“Aye, aye!” You saluted, tromping off towards your mother as you heard a soft laugh and the garage door close. “What’s he makin’?”

“Something for Emily, I think.” Your mother said quietly, already preparing the ingredients for dinner. “But what he isn’t making is dinner, so let’s get to it. The few things he can cook take time. He’s learned to make chicken parmesan, eggplant parmesan, some other chicken-type things and then whatever he can manage to stick on the grill and cook, well, then you know he’s a regular old Hank Hill.”

You snorted a laugh, watching her smile as she tied an apron Emily made for her around herself, letting you tie the back even though she’d been doing it herself for years. “He’s learned to cook in here?”

“He likes to experiment when I’m not home. He almost burned the house down, Nick was on the truck and had to be the one to explain to him why he can’t just use a blowtorch to ‘gently toast’ eggplant even though your father knew he was being a moron.”

“Nick Allen?” You asked quietly, raising an eyebrow. Your mother nodded, smiling.

“Yeah! He’s climbing his little firefighter ranks, sweetie!”

“He’s hardly little, mom.” You muttered, shaking your head as she gave you a look. “What?”

“You use to chase him around like he was the sun.” She paused for a moment, tilting her head as she thought about it. “But then you found somebody who chases you around like you’re the sun, moon _and_ stars!”

“Stop.” You told her, feeling a heat rising to your cheeks. “Mom, now is not the time-“

“Oh, but Don loves you so much!” She said, clasping her hands together. You sighed softly, looking down at the hardwood floor. “Nick’s getting married this summer, y’know! Maybe I’ll pester him to send you an invite!”

“He already did, I told him I’d bring my family. He says he was looking forward to meeting them.”

“You tell him he already knows your husband?” She asked, having you pick up a heavy pot and place it on the stove. 

You nodded easily, turning on the burner. “Said he couldn’t wait to see how ‘scrawny and skittish’ Donald Pierce turned out.”

She rolled her eyes. “Somebody tell him that the stick thin boy everyone knows is now triple his size and a military vet, ready to kick somebody into next we-“

“Figured I’d let him find out himself.” You chuckled, watching her smile a little more. “Besides, as I remember, the girl he’s marrying, Wilana? She and Donnie use to be… _buddies_ in high school.” She looked at you quizzically. “When Don and I were still friends.”

“It took you two a little while to get your crap together.”

>>> XxX

"Mom, but you don’t get it. I don't know what to do." You told her honestly, swallowing as you continued to stir pasta you’d poured into the pot. Your stomach grumbled, thankfully, it was nearly done. "I really don't. He's lying to me, I know he is."

She made a distressed sound, shrugging her shoulders as she added more garlic to the pasta sauce. "Talk to him."

"I've tried. When I try to get something out of him, he freaks out on me and tells me he can't actually tell me." You sighed, turning off the burner once the pasta was done. "I don't like it."

"Give him an ultimatum, then." She offered, unsure of what to say. "I've never been in this situation. Your father lied once to me, but he was hiding the fact that he'd been going to the bank and a travel company repeatedly to book a vacation and attempt to keep it off the statements so I wouldn't find out." 

"Oh, right." You mumbled, dumping the pasta into a strainer. "I just- I left Emily there and I feel horrible."

"Someone has to watch the animals, sweetie." She told you, continuing to stir the pasta sauce so it didn't burn and stick to the bottom of the pan. "Besides, Emily is a smart girl."

"I'm worried is all."

"Well, I can tell. What exactly are you worried about? You still haven't told me." She reminded, finally turning off the burner. "Besides the truth avoiding, at least. Did he do something... questionable?"

"He's not cheating on me, he says he's taking business trips, he gets home late and leaves home early. He isn’t even a morning person! He hates them! He gets jumpy when I show up at the office and when I try to go out for lunch with him, he says he's not at the office, that he’s already going to lunch with business partners."

"Well, if he were lying about anything, it wouldn't be the cheating. Don is a loyal man." You nodded as she said this. "I honestly don't know what to tell you. Maybe go to his office and ask his secretary?"

You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck. "I'd have to avoid running into him."

"Depends on how much you actually don’t want to see him." Your mother replied, shrugging her shoulders. "Does he know you're here?"

"No." You replied seriously, watching her for a moment. "If he calls, tell him I haven't been here."

"I'm a horrible liar!" Your mother groaned, going for a few plates. "I'll have your father do it. You're staying the night, though – right?"

"If I can?" You asked, watching her with a soft smile. 

“You already brought your bag.” 

"Thank you."

"Of course, sweetie." She paused, dishing out food into three plates just as your father came in from the garage. "Now, let's eat!"

>>> XxX 

(When you found out what your father had made, it was a wooden solar system for Emily that she could either paint or leave bare. He’d made each tan planet a small name plate that was attached to it with a thin silver chain. You smiled tenderly as you wrapped it in a t-shirt, placing it into your bag so it hopefully wouldn’t break somehow, someway.)

You went to bed in the spare room that night, your mind swimming with thoughts of what to do once you got back home, but only two came to mind; go to your husband’s office and see what you could find _or_ let it simmer, and figure it out then.

You decided to sleep on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (p.s: shit's going down soon)


	12. firepole entrance.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weddings aren't the best place to reintroduce someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> get ready for a nearly 4k chapter thats dialogue heavy and a piece of actual FUCKING garbage as usual lmao 
> 
> (rmr, xXx>>> or whatever i decide to put are kinda line breaks! its a time pass thing cause i cant rmr how to do it on here. so.)

You went home from your parents the following day, arriving to find Emily experimenting with cake baking and Donald watching over her. To your surprise, however, he didn’t seem concerned as to where you went.

_“Everyone needs time off from their life,” He shrugged, his uncharacteristic sweatpants and t-shirt looking a little dirty. You watched him dip his finger into the chocolate batter when Emily wasn’t looking, grinning when she turned around and swatted his hand with her spoon. The front of her shirt was covered in flour, parts of the kitchen looked like hell had warmed over and other parts were spotless. You noticed Don holding a rag, maybe he’d been cleaning up after her? “I do, you do – Emily does and she’s a kid.”_

_“So, you’re not the least bit concerned?”_

_He looked at you, sighed and walked closer, his bare feet silent against the hardwood floors. He took your hands, pressed his lips to your temple and whispered softly. “I called your mother, she’s not a very good liar.”_

It’s safe to say she might’ve saved you from explaining. Back to the matter at hand.

 

“Listen, if you go with mild complaining, I will do something special for your birthday, alright?” You bargained, straightening out your navy blue dress. 

“What’s special?” He asked you, raising an eyebrow. You rolled your eyes, watching him looking through his ties. “I gotta know your terms!”

“At least wear one of those, Jesus! Don, come on – work with me here!”

“I’m tryin’ to choose!” He said, thrusting two ties at you. “Gray or navy?”

“My dress is navy.” You pointed out, tilting your head slightly as he chucked the gray tie over his shoulder. He went to do up his tie, draping it around his neck before you pushed his hands out of the way. He grinned toothily as you tugged and pulled, quickly doing his tie. “What?”

“Nervous?” He observed, your hands grazing his chest. He was wearing a light blue shirt with the rest of his outfit being a dark gray. “Baby? We don’t hav’ t’go-“

“No,” You sighed, finally completing the gracious looking knot and pushing it up to rest just beneath his collar. You then folded the edges of said collar down, straitening his suit jacket around him, smoothing down the sleeves as you fidgeted. “We’re going.”

“So, you’re not the least bit-“

“No, I’m not.” You said quickly, going for your gray clutch that sat on your nightstand. Donald watched you, an eyebrow raised as you spoke. “Just because the groom is my ex and the bride is yours, doesn’t mean a thing. I mean, really? It was highschool, dumb stupid teenage stuff. It doesn’t matter, not to me, anyway.”

>>> xXx

“Alright, we got everything.” You muttered, sitting in the passenger’s seat as Donald had insisted on driving today. “Dax and Figaro are at the neighbor’s house, Emily’s in the back with her books-“

“All four of ‘em.” Donald muttered, buckling up as you did the same. 

“I need variety.” Emily told him crisply, choosing which book she was going to read as she looked at the four titles. “It’s boring to do nothing in the car.”

Donald rolled his eyes as you sighed, continuing your checklist. 

“I’ve got another shirt for you in the back, different shoes for me, change of clothes for Emily in case there are other kids to play with at the wedding.” Your husband snorted a laugh at that, inserting the keys into the ignition before turning them, the SUV coming to life. He shifted gears, driving backwards, turning then moving into drive so he could move down the road. “What? She plays with kids her age.”

“No, she doesn’t.” Donald replied, glancing at Emily in the backseat. “Y’know that! It’s either kids younger than ‘er or kids older than ‘er, and then she isn’t playin’. She’s jus’ talkin’.”

“Whatever.” You muttered, tired already. “Did I turn the coffee pot off?”

“No,” your husband told you, causing panic to rise within you. “I did.”

His cheeky smile made you gently smack his arm, shaking your head as you fought your own. At least he was acting normal.

>>> xXx

The ceremony for Nick Allen and Wilana Morris… er, Wilana _Allen_ was less than stellar. Sure, it was pretty and modern – but you’d never seen a bride make her entrance down a fire pole. You had to stop Donald and Emily from laughing when a fire engine siren ripped through the building and the first pieces of Wilana you saw were her shoes and the edge of her dress. 

The bridesmaids looked a tad mortified, perhaps they hadn’t known? Even the maid of honor shared the expression, but she seemed to reign it in. The groomsmen, who also happened to be a handful of the men from Nick’s firehouse, seemed to keep their own reactions in check.

The reception, however, was a tad bit better. The weather was gorgeous, a cool breeze rolling through the pavilion that all the guests sat in. You smiled to yourself, the soft pink of the bridesmaids’ dresses matching the black of the groomsmens’ tuxedos and the entire décor beneath the pavilion. There were beautiful tulip centerpieces on every table, little tealight candles that complimented the flowers to their fullest and place cards with hand drawn flowers (behind every name) for each person.

You found yourself, along with Donald and Emily, to be seated closer to the groom’s side of things and further from the bride’s.

“I guess you left an impression.” You muttered, hearing Donald chuckle as the three of you took your seats. You did notice, however, that even if Donald was acting normally – checking every room you all went into, looking at windows, doors, etc. – he seemed to be closer to you than he tried to be before your argument and your trip to your parents’ house, which was hard to do. “I think they’re gonna do speeches, then everyone can hit the bar – which is open, by the way, we don’t have to leave tips – and then we’ll all eat then dancing will occur.”

“Then we can leave?” Donald questioned, watching you frown before he reached for your hand. “I’m jus’ kiddin’. Can’t wait t’dance.”

>>> xXx

“Never in my life have I sat through a more uncomfortable speech,” Donald whispered to you, his arms crossed as you sat there, playing with the stem of your champagne glass. Wilana’s voice was flooding through the pavilion, her recounting of certain _odd_ moments that could’ve been the end of her and Nick’s relationship. “Even the groom looks uncomfortable!”

You glanced at Emily, who had been watching Nick the moment the speech started. His was much better, but Wilana’s was a trainwreck. She tilted her head, squinting her eyes and then her lips turned upwards, causing her to look down and stare at her hands in her lap. 

“What?” You whispered across the table to her. She shrugged, continuing to look at her hands. “Em-“

“What d’ya think he’s thinkin’?” Donald asked quietly, scratching the back of his neck as Wilana’s speech ended. Emily looked at her father closely for a moment then glanced at Nick.

“How much of a mistake this is.” She whispered, scooting her chair slightly closer to him so he could hear her. “He’ll regret it for sure.”

“Jesus, Em.” Donald scoffed, turning his head to look at the young girl. “Tell me what ya really think.”

There was a short delay for whatever reason, and then dinner was being served. You all ate your respective choices, after all the invitation held the kind decision of chicken breast, salmon filet, sirloin steak or a salad option, for those uninterested in meats. You’d gone with the chicken _over_ a salad just in case they had something you really liked at the bar. 

Emily chose chicken with potatoes and, unsurprisingly, Donald was quick to make sure you knew he wanted that sirloin. You all had your toast-champagne which, in all honesty, went pretty much unused throughout dinner except at the end when the father of the bride gave a genuinely meaningful thanks to the guests and the almost-required “son-I-never-had” speech. Everyone had a glass of white wine or red wine at their tables, also given the choice of coffee or tea, in case they were falling behind in the being awake department.

Dinner took a little while, small salads or soups being placed down, then the meal you chose, then whatever else they served as a small snack and the promise of cake later on.

“Hey, hon?” You asked, turning to Donald as he sat up, wiping his mouth free of any food-debris. “Are you going to the bar?”

“Maybe?” He replied, rolling his shoulders, his button-up stretching out over the broad expanse of his shoulders and chest for a moment. “D’ya want me t’go there?”

You smiled, nodding your head as he tilted his. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

“Rum and coke.” He supplied, watching your smile widen. “Alrighty,” he popped the ‘t’, standing up quickly.”My love, I’ll be back shortly.”

Your husband left to get the drinks, probably going to get a can of soda for Emily as well as he made his way to the open bar. You looked across the table at your daughter, smiling as she managed to keep from complaining in her dress. 

“I’m going to go see if I can find anyone from highschool, besides the bride and groom.” You told her, watching her nod. “Try to talk to your dad a little, alright? I don’t need two silent types running around.”

That got Emily to laugh a little, taking a moment to look around the reception. “Don’t get too disappointed if there isn’t anyone.”

“I’ll be relieved, sweetie.”

With that, you were off. However, Donald – being the ever so careful and watchful man – nearly had a heart attack when he turned and you weren’t at the table. Truly, the day you came back he played it cool but he nearly jumped out of his skin with joy when you returned, but he didn’t want you out of his sight after… and now? He didn’t know where you’d gone! You were lost in a cluster of people, probably, and he didn’t know if they had weapons or anything. He hadn’t gotten the chance to slip a weapon on his person, gun or knife or what have you, because you’d been watching his suit process the entire time to make sure there wasn’t any funny business!

He slowly walked back to the table, drinks not moving as stepped precisely, his long legs carrying him in a shorter amount of time despite his pace.

“Did your mother go mingle?” Donald asked Emily, the small can of soda he’d nabbed sticking out of his suit jacket’s pocket. She met his eyes, icy blue staring at icy blue. For a moment, she saw the panic in them, but his calm exterior made her sigh. She nodded wordlessly, the movement of her head seeming to be her confirmation.

“She wanted to see if there was anybody from your lame high school wandering around. Besides the happy couple.” Donald clenched his jaw, rolling his shoulders again before he sat down in his chair. He kept his drink in his hand, setting yours down so he could offer Emily the can of knock-off Sprite. “They couldn’t spring for actual Sprite? I mean, sometimes knock-off tastes better but-!”

“Weddings are expensive, kiddo.” Donald told her, raising his eyebrow slightly. “Don’t expect luxury where someone can save a penny or two.”

“Hi!” The two heard a soft voice speak, their heads turning. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

Emily felt annoyance stirring suddenly and furrowed her brows, looking at her father before she buried her face in her book. This woman – a bridesmaid, clearly – with pink hair to match her dress and a soft voice to pair with it all, was speaking only to Donald Pierce, therefore Emily Pierce was checking out of the conversation… kind of.

“It’s not bad,” Donald shrugged, squinting slightly as he tried to relax a little. He didn’t want to be distracted, he wanted to be able to catch up to you if he saw you. “I didn’t expect a firepole.”

The woman looked a little embarrassed, looking away for a moment. “I… didn’t either. She didn’t mention it. Anyway, I was wondering if this seat was taken?” She pointed down at your seat, the seat he’d debated putting his leg over to prevent anyone from snatching it. 

“Yes.” Emily said from behind her book, peeking over the edge to see Donald and the bridesmaid looking at her. She cleared her throat, coughing gently before going back to her book. “Yes, what I wanted to happen in this chapter did happen. Yay.”

Donald’s lips tugged upwards, smiling a little at his daughter’s checked out response. “What’s ya name, sweetheart?”

This caused the woman to blush even further, swirling the champagne she carried in her glass. “Tish.”

“I’m flattered, Tish-“ Donald started, watching her hand go for the edge of the chair. His foot moved, catching under the leg so he could tug it closer to himself. “But yeah, this seat is taken.”

“Well, that’s disappointing.” She muttered, tucking some pink hair behind her ear as she looked at his face, not quite being able to meet his eyes, hand still hanging onto the chair. Her eyes flickered down to his wedding ring then to Emily as the young girl rolled her eyes. “Because, I wanted to say, you are a very attractive man. Regardless of… status.”

Donald’s polite smile turned sour, a frown fitting across his lips as she stood there. “Don’t wanna accuse anyone of desperation, I’ve been there. So, I’m tellin’ ya, sweetheart… no. Chasin’ after _happily_ married men isn’t a path pretty little things like you should be wanderin’ down.”

She was testing him now, hand dropping from the chair to meet the fabric of her dress. “I don’t think that’s for you to decide. Now, what’s your name? I told you mine.”

“Donald.” He said crisply, edging at her little game for a moment. He was giving her a chance to come back from what she was attempting, his eyes still icy and his tone just as cold. “Go back to your table, lil’ miss.”

“I’m old enough to be your wife, don’t call me ‘lil’ miss’.”

“Well, yer not my wife.” He nearly snapped, foot yanking the chair all the way forward. “And I’m not interested.” 

“See you around, Donnie,” The bridesmaid said briskly, anger forming on her face. Donald rolled his eyes, heat rolling off him in waves. “Looking forward to it.”

“Don’t call him that.” Emily told Tish from behind her book, eyes still focused on the clustered words across the pages. “You’re not allowed to.”

“People can’t be possessive over names!” She said angrily, storming off at the call of her own name from across the grounds. “God!”

“I’m gonna go find your mother, Em, try not to let anyone take the chairs – alright?” Donald asked, standing as he grasped his rum and coke. “I’m real tired of people already.”

“Been tired of them since we drove up.”

Donald made his way through a cluster of people, looking for anyone in a navy blue dress. He sighed as he bumped into people, his accent making his polite apologies sound even sweeter. He kept looking, eventually taking out his phone to call you. Sure, he wasn’t even looking that long but every second you were out of his sight felt like a genuine eternity.

Suddenly, a text from you popped up.

Donald typed in his password, reading the text quickly:

_by the cake. SOS._

He looked over the heads of people, easily watching a cluster disband to reveal you by the cake and… some old guy gripping your forearm tightly, to do what appeared to be looking at your bracelet. He felt something stir in him, his fists clenching. He heard his phone’s screen protest as he squeezed it, the buttons being pressed all at once. 

Donald walked quickly, coming up on your side. He gracelessly bumped you, causing the man to release your arm as he came up beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling slightly against him. 

A sigh of relief escaped you, your body practically melting into his muscular side. “Donald, this is Irving.”

Your husband looked positively feral, nearly snarling at the man, moving his arm from your body to extend his right hand. Irving smiled weakly at the whirring cybernetic hand, shrinking in on himself when he grasped Donald’s hand, the latter nearly crushing the former’s bones before releasing the appendage. “Pleasure.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, Irvin’.” Donald bit back, devilish sneer playing at his lips. He brought his tumbler to his lips with his left hand, knocking back the rest of his rum and coke before handing the glass to his new acquaintance. “Take that, thanks – we must be goin’. Gotta go say hello to the bride n’ groom.” 

“Oh, yes.” Irving nodded, stepping back to distance himself from the much taller man that seemed to have just… appeared beside you, swooping in like a vulture, almost. He glanced at the tumbler he was now holding then looked between the two of you. “Truly an endearing couple.”

“Eh, don’t be so kind, Irvin’. They’re somethin’, dunno if its endearin’.”

“Don!” You whispered, hitting his chest gently. He tipped his head to Irving, walking you exactly where he’d mentioned. “God, thank you. He kept grabbing my arm, wouldn’t listen when I asked him to stop. I tried leaving, but he kept following me and-“

“Happy to.” Donald said simply, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to your temple. ”Let’s say hi to these two, then let’s skedaddle. We’ve been here a couple hours and Emily already wants to strangle someone.”

“She’s not the only one, apparently.” You told him, smiling as he chuckled. You came up to Nick and Wilana, a couple of groomsmen and bridesmaids were with them. You said hello the ones you knew, Eric and Evan, Hallie and of course her little sister, Tish. “How’ve you been?”

“You married him?” Tish questioned softly, Evan attempting to tug her along. “I didn’t-“

Donald just watched her, clearing his throat gently as Nick suddenly demanded your attention. Nick didn’t even seem to register Donald, a first for the tall man. “I’m so happy you could make it!”

“Happy to be here, thank you so much for inviting us!” You grinned, hugging the man quickly and kissing his cheek. You called to your daughter, turning your head over your shoulder. “Emily! If you remember, Nick, this is Don!”

“Donald Pierce!” Nick grinned widely, extending his hand for Donald to shake. “God, you use to be so scrawny. Your old man used to yell at you from the sidelines of those shitty football games, trying to get you to tackle somebody! How is he?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of your husband’s father, your eyes meeting the side of his face as his jaw visibly clenched. Emily suddenly came up between you two. 

“Dunno, he stopped callin’.” Donald lied, although you didn’t know that and neither did Nick. “How’ve ya been?”

“Good, man! Firehouse is keepin’ me in shape, though it could help others – God, I just can’t believe this is you.” Nick sounded like he was utterly amazed. “You’re built like a brick shithouse!”

“That type of admiration is usually saved for lovers, Nicky.” Wilana cut in, tilting her head to the side to let her eyes ogle over your husband. She then turned to you, smiling and leaning to hug you before giving you a quick cheek-kiss. “But he’s right, Donald, you certainly grew up.”

“This is Emily,” You introduced, watching Donald’s hand gently move some hair from her face so they could meet her equally icy eyes. “Our daughter.”

“Tall like your father,” Wilana observed, nodding as she tapped her temple. “His eyes, too. You’re very pretty, Emily.”

You watched Emily clench her jaw, holding back any smartass comments. “Thank you.” 

“Uh-“ Nick distractedly glanced at Wilana, furrowing his eyebrows at her words. “I remember seeing pictures of her when she was a baby, your mother was so excited.”

“She was.” You and Donald said in unison, feeling an awkward air arise around the newlyweds. 

The five of you stood there, unsure of what to do before Nick spoke.

“What happened to you?” Nick asked softly, furrowing his eyebrows. “I mean… what made you bulk up? I saw you walk in at the ceremony and didn’t even recognize you at first. I saw (Y/N) and that kinda gave it away. You were always tall but… God, you refused to give in to weight training.”

“Military.” Donald replied curtly, flicking his tongue over his bottom lip. He grinned then, revealing his gold tooth as he brought a hand up to smooth out his hair. “Gained some muscle but I lost parts of me ‘long th’way.”

Nick nodded like he understood, but you felt a substantial weight upon your heart at the mere mention of it. Wilana spoke, her expression curious. “Like what?”

“You can’t just ask that!” Nick muttered, his voice tense. 

“It’s fine,” Donald waved off, twisting his wedding ring with his right hand. The gentle whirring of his cybernetic hand caught Wilana’s attention. She gasped, watching him then move his thick gold ring around before he held out his hand. “This would be one of the things.”

“Jesus!” Wilana nearly yelled, reaching for the hand. Donald held his hand out, letting her look at it for a moment. “They gave you this?”

“Fuck, are you kiddin’?” He snorted, pulling his hand back after Wilana looked at it. “I made it myself, they weren’t doin’ jack for me and my boys. Lost my buddy when I lost my fuckin’ hand and they brushed it off, didn’t have the benefits for it.”

That was partially a lie, but you didn’t know that one, either.

“He’s always been good with that sort of thing.” You told them, going to reach for his hand once he’d dropped it but saw Emily had already taken it, her smaller hand grasping the metal tightly. “Really excelled in it.”

“Nick! Are we cutting cake?” You heard from somewhere across the reception. Nick shrugged, obviously recognizing the voice. “Need an answer! The photographer wants to know so she doesn’t miss it, she has to make a call!”

“We can now!” Nick called back, watching Wilana nod. The two said their good-byes and disappeared into the group of people surrounding the cake table already. “Get close!”

At some point, Donald wound up on your right side and his left hand found your hand, warmth radiating from it as you reassuringly squeezed it. “You okay?”

“Fine, but I’m gonna go to the car for a moment. Left somethin’ there.” 

While the cake was being cut, Donald left and you heard a soft crushing sound. He came back and you didn’t ask, and when you were leaving you saw what looked like a fist shaped dent (that had been popped recently) near the bumper.

You didn’t mention it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't forget to check out the new and improved playlist!! (ps i still dont know how to link shit.)  
> [ https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL8nGAxy0iL1vSBNgZAZtfMrtvxcFknEt3 ]


	13. birthday.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celebrate good times!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey this entire chapter is fucking
> 
> i listened to 505 (and) do i wanna know? by the arctic monkeys while writing this, then apocalyptic (and) i miss the misery by halestorm.
> 
> ps, changing my username to get_glitch3d very soon. check back every so often! if you can't find me, remember that i'll still be keeping this username as a placeholder once i switch them out so you'll absolutely be able to search it still to find my account, it'll just show the new username.

The swell of soft flesh against hard muscle always inspired your arousal, today was no different. It always doted on his, as well.

Your loving husband, a man whose birthday happened to be at the top of the agenda, was underneath you with an admirable grin on his lips, eyes watching your face as you once more tested the buckles securing his wrists to the headboard.

"I'm not goin' anywhere," Donald told you, voice coated in a dangerous concoction of his heavy drawl, lust and anticipation. "It was my idea, aft'a all."

"I'm just..." You trailed off, fingers ghosting over the area where the cool metal met his skin. You had suggested a soft, silk binding but he had wanted a metal one or a leather one. You met halfway and got metal with a soft inside so only the edges dug into his wrists. "Checking."

You were seated on his abdomen, the hard muscle a cushion for your soft rear. You watched him clench his jaw, waiting for you to make a move. So often had he dominated in the bedroom that he actually opened up to you about relinquishing control, eyes something short of desperate and nothing short of feral when he mentioned it over his cup of coffee the previous Friday. He had been blunt that day, since Emily was already at school, and he'd had off work the entire week. It was a little strange, but it didn't matter too much because each morning you'd actually wake up with him beside you and not a text saying he'd already left.

Your hands slipped down his wrists, watching his face. You felt a heat rise to your cheeks as you felt your own heartbeat speed up, felt your own oxygen intake increase, but his? He just studied you; eyes locked on your face as though he needed to, perhaps to know you were ready, that you were okay?

Your fingers smoothed over the veins on his muscular forearms, feeling the pace suddenly spike as you closed your own eyes. Your fingers continued down his muscular arms, eyes remaining closed as they danced across his broad shoulders and pronounced collarbones, reaching his chest to dig the edges of your nails in.

That's when you felt his breathing change and you slowly scooted back, the sheer, soft pink robe you wore shifted slightly around you as you moved. The head of his already-leaking cock pressed against the soft material of your lace panties. You felt the beat of his heart increase as you continued to move back, the fabric between you and him almost unbearably hot as you glided over him, eyes still closed as you felt each sensation and heard each breath, each beat and the subtle _creak_ of the headboard as his wrists shifted. 

You'd managed to seat yourself between his muscular legs, lips softly pressing to the tanned flesh that resided there. 

_He's already sweating._

You mouthed over his thighs, feeling the already (always) warm skin practically ignite beneath your touch, fingers pressing _oh so_ delicately into his skin. You licked and kissed and nipped your way back and forth, with the fond enthusiasm he shared whenever he went down on you.

That's when you opened your eyes, grasping his cock, lips parting as you kissed the bright red head, tongue poking out in the slightest. He watched you and you had power, you relished in it, the knowledge that he hadn't taken his eyes off you. 

You heard the faintest whimper pass his lips as you teased him, knowing he couldn't retaliate against you, knowing he wouldn't break those binds, knowing he'd have to wait and be patient as you grasped your control like your lips on his cock.

The sound made you smile, and then you dropped it and gently licked a stripe along the underside of the hard appendage, eyes focused on his bright blue ones. He seemed to cautiously suck in a breath as you did it once more, watching you kiss the head then with as much ease as you could muster, take his cock in your mouth and watch as his hips bucked, forcing him deeper into your mouth and nearly your throat. You breathed through your nose, careful not to hurt yourself, or him, as you pulled your mouth off of him and leaned back on your heels. There was a small line of spit on your chin from the action, and for the first time that night, he actually stared at something _besides_ your eyes.

"Again," He whispered, accent as heavy as his cock had been on your tongue. "Baby?"

"Your birthday, my rules." You told him simply, smiling coyly as his head snapped back to hit the pillows, his hair rumpling against the headboard. "We agreed."

You watched his head move back up, watching as you leaned on your butt to pull your panties off, the high whine of a moan escaping his throat as he watched you, entranced even further by you than he normally was.

"God," he whispered softly, icy eyes focused on the heavily slick, lower part of you. "Always fo' me."

" _Only_ for you." You corrected gently, crawling back up to straddle him. You, however, did not touch him, your lower half remaining raised above him. Your fingers moved back to his buckles, fingers slowly tracing over them as you brought your face low, holding it just above his as he struggled to prop his head up to meet your lips. You whispered softly, eyes watching his as your hot breath fanned his handsome face. "Not yet."

He watched you with a concentration you'd never seen, eyes only moving as your hand slipped back down to grasp his cock, feeling the head catch at your entrance before he watched you slowly sink down, breath held as he watched his cock disappear, your pussy walls fluttering around the thick appendage.

You stifled your groan, somehow, and heard the low rumble of a _delicious_ growl building in his chest.

"That's it." You whispered encouragingly, feeling his cock twitch as he was fully sheathed, biceps flexing as he strained against his binds; his cock pressed comfortably against all the right places within you. "Fuck..."

“Move, please – _move.”_

“Begging early?” You questioned, eyebrows raised as you slowly complied. Surely, not enough to get him anywhere but by the powers of mightier beings than you – all of this made you hot and you were ready to let an orgasm wash over you… but you needed to remain calm, needed to pace yourself. He whined further, hips attempting to buck as you stopped. “See? It’s more tortuous to go slow than to not move at all, Donnie.”

Your husband’s eyes nearly rolled back into his head as you clenched around him, your velvet walls squeezing heavily at his thick cock. His head pressing into the pillows as you moved your hips, rocking slowly against him, not lifting off him just yet as you felt his cockhead press deliciously within you against the best spots as he looked down at where your bodies met. 

That’s when you shifted up, moving your hips back to raise off him and give him the view he begged for, his pupils blown wide from desire, his breathing altogether stopped as you slickly slid down on him. He strained to watch you, groaning in pleasure as his cock pressed deep within you. You started truly riding him, hips rocking against him as you rose and sunk back down with skill that took years to muster. It clearly caught him off guard as he yanked at the cuffs around his wrists.

But you didn’t stop for a second, already feeling your arousal climbing the proverbial orgasmic mountain with each rock, shift and deep thrust as his body worked instinctively to meet yours halfway. You heard the headboard creak further as he pulled and tugged at the cuffs, his stifled groans filling the air as he attempted to shut himself up to listen to your soft moans, your gentle swears and airy breaths at the lightheaded feeling you were getting. Your hands pushed against his chest, his muscular torso willingly sinking further into the mattress as he tried to stave off his own orgasm, feeling it building rapidly – he always wanted you to come first, always relished in over stimulating you as you came while he still fucked you raw, filling you with his release afterwards as you twitched.

Today was no different, even visibly wrecked as he was, he seemed to be fighting himself as he continued to meet your hips, because he knew had he just stayed still, he’d come faster.

Your release came quickly, washing over you as a euphoric wave, your sheer pink robe bunched around your hips as you smoothed back your hair, feeling his cock throbbing within your soaked heat as you slowed your hips. You heard him start whining at the shift in pace before all-out arguing with you as you rolled off of him, standing on slightly shaky legs as you left the room to a creaky headboard and pleads from your loving husband to _“come back.”_

You walked downstairs to the kitchen, hearing him thrashing against the mattress as you got yourself some cold water, pressing the cool glass to your hot cheeks. You breathed deeply as you heard the thrashing stop, your eyes narrowing. You left the glass on the counter after drinking a couple more sips. You walked quietly up the stairs, standing in the doorway as you watched him stare at you, erect cock painfully hard. 

He looked even more feral, like you’d stolen a lion’s kill. You felt even hotter under his gaze, you felt all your previous confidence die at the stare he fixed on you. You watched his wrists shift for a moment and you realized that, a little late you might add, even after you’d settled back on top of him, that one of the cuff’s link to the bedpost seemed to be a little… bent.

It didn’t matter til you slipped him back inside of you, waiting for a reaction, but it never came. He just stared at you, and like lightning – fast, unpredictable and sharp – he flexed his arms and tugged, yanking his wrists forward as that creak from before returned with a loud splitting sound, the cuffs snapping the headboard as he freed himself and flipped the two of you over, all while his cock remained inside of you, his hips moving the second you were on your back on the mattress, watching your face twist with pleasure as he moved too fast to let your brain think.

He pushed his knees into the mattress, planting his feet a bit better as he fucked you, your legs forced open around his waist, allowing him deeper as your arms came up to grab at him: his shoulders, his ribs, his hair, and his face as his cock fucked in and out of you, the slick appendage opening you up as it always did. You cried out as his cockhead pushed against the special spot within you, going past it and then moving back over it without hesitation as he expertly fucked you.

You felt his cock twitch as another orgasm washed over you, feeling his thrusts get sloppy as one arm holding him up moved so he could wrap his hand around your throat, the other allowing him to drop to his forearm, caging you beneath him as he often loved to do, moving your body with how hard his thrusts were as the headboard continued to creak and groan under the pace, your own moans stifled at the overstimulation as you heard his feral growl and–

“Fuck!” You screamed, feeling him release within you, his cock still moving as his thighs hit yours, his body pressed against you, suffocating you with heat and his hand as he choked you, before leaning down and kissing you, lips moving to _bite_ and _suck_ and _lick_ every single inch of skin as he made it to your neck and collarbones, acting as an almost-vampire as his high continued to wash over him. You felt him quiver slightly as he released your throat, your hands going to pet his hair cautiously as his hips slowed. “Good?”

“I – yeah.” He whispered, nodding his head slowly as he shielded his face in between your neck and shoulder. You asked him if he’d spent that entire time trying to figure out how to break them and he laughed easily, pulling back from you as his cock slipped out of your aching core, eyes tired as sweat accumulated on his skin, his powerful body hovering over yours before he sat back on his heels, broken cuffs holding loosely to his wrists. “Well, not the ‘ntire time, baby… that wouldn’t be fair, now would it?”

You felt your cheeks heat up as his eyes looked over your body, resting beside you as you stayed put, your legs shaking from his actions. “Happy birthday, Don.”

“Mm, think it’s my favorite t’date.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shit's happenin' soon. i needed to get this out of the way first. hopefully, it isn't complete shit.
> 
> [just realized i said that he wanted this for his birthday "last friday" which to me, even though it might not to you, mean that its a friday when this is set. this is the 13th chapter... friday, the 13th.]


	14. secrets, secrets...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little too late, perhaps?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aha enjoyyyy

"Okay." You told yourself, adjusting your sunglasses. "I can do this. Sneak in, go to his office, poke around and sneak out."

You'd been giving yourself the same pep-talk for the better portion of an hour, sitting in your car in the far portion of the parking lot. Which, granted, might not have been the best thing because if you had to run, you could definitely hurt something running _that_ far _that_ fast. 

"He's your husband," You scoffed at yourself. "He's not gonna chase you down." 

_He's also a liar. If he wants to keep a secret that badly, he could. I mean, he was in the military, he's been keeping secrets for years. Secrets about k-_ You smacked your head, getting your mind to shut up. You were kicking yourself, wondering when you’d gotten so suspicious of his relatively normal behavior… well to you, at least. 

You got out of the car, locking the doors (out of instinct) and started towards Alkali/Transigen's front doors. You had only decided to do this because nothing added up. You’d put it off for years, and now was the time for truth. If he didn't want to answer your questions, if he wanted to tell you lies and avoid telling you everything, in earnest, you'd figure it out yourself.

You took deep breaths as you reached them, opening the heavy doors quickly. A security guard first met you, stopping you as he stood.

"Ma'am, would you mind providing identification?" He asked, picking up a scanner to put you into the electronic check-in database. "Ma'am?"

You nodded slowly, reaching into your bag. You were about to pull out your ID, the visitor pass Betty, Donald's secretary, had given you ages ago when you heard multiple heavy steps. Your heart rate picked up, the thrumming causing your lungs to take in more air. You were about to chance a look in that direction, but Betty appeared with a wide smile on her red lips.

"Hey! Ernie, it's fine. I've got it." Betty said, waving it off as you started to raise your ID. He gave her a skeptical look, raising the scanner to meet your ID. Donald didn’t want you in the system, as he told Betty sternly. "I'll take you to lunch if you let it slide."

The darker man grinned, setting down the scanner. "You know me too well."

"Come on, Mrs. Pierce." She said, walking you down the hall. Ernie heard and his grin fell. 

"You're his wife?" He asked, watching her. You nodded slowly. "Didn't know he had one! You here for the cancer research benefit?"

You didn't reply as Betty dragged you away. "He's here, isn't he?" Normally, it was your husband who met you at the door – frantic to get you out.

"I mean, he'll be here in a few minutes. He's coming back from an early lunch, but he has to be, at least til the big boss says he can skedaddle! The boys are just doing rounds so he doesn’t get on them." Betty replied, a slight furrow in her brows. You two reached an elevator, riding it up to the fifth floor. "They do so much work on this project, he's here a lot, actually. Figured you knew?"

"Oh, yeah. Absolutely." You muttered, getting off the elevator as you shook your head, thinking of a quick lie. "I just need to drop something off."

"No problem! Do you need to wait for him?" Betty asked, walking past her desk and to Donald's office. She used her keycard to open the dark door, letting you in. "Because if you do need to wait for him, you can just hang out in here. Normally he has a problem with people in his office, even me, but I’m sure he’d make an exception for-"

"No, I'm okay." You responded, going to take your phone from your pocket. Betty nodded, leaving you in peace. The door shut behind her, leaving you in the dark room. The window blinds were pulled, allowing for zero light to get in. 

You sighed and got to work, going to the large filing cabinet in the corner. All the drawers were locked on it, and you gave a frustrated groan as you yanked on them. By doing this, you shook the wall and the framed pictures upon it; one of him and his army buddies, both in their fatigues and out on liberty, and one of him and a shorter man. The shorter man had dark hair, dark eyes, tanned skin – didn’t look like anyone you’d seen before – and you curiously lifted it up, seeing writing that said _‘lent a hand, lost a life’_ on the back in gold ink.

You went to his desk, seeing every drawer locked but one. You attempted to open the locked ones first, looking across the desk for a key – (why would he leave one out?) – and then gave up, going for the one without a lock.

When you opened the drawer, you saw a yellow file folder on top. You pulled it out, noticing the large _“Insufficient Information”_ stamp on the right corner of it. You looked down at the drawer and chewed your lip, mostly from guilt, upon seeing the framed picture of you, Don and Emily in the drawer. You wondered for a brief moment why it wasn’t on his desk, but you let it go as you looked back at the large stamp.

"What the hell?" You muttered, looking at the file Donald had of himself. It was possibly the thinnest file you've ever seen, and you’d seen him carrying around a lot. The stacks he had at home were huge! Your eyes skimmed the two pages that were in there, reading aloud to yourself. "Dependent(s): Spouse; **Redacted**? Children; **Redacted**?”

You heard a shuffle outside and your head shot up as you waited for the door to open. Fortunately, nobody came through the other side. “Home Address: **Redacted.** "

You kept reading, eventually getting to his military record and his, much to your surprise, dishonorable discharge.

"Oh my God!" You practically shouted, looking at the words. "You lied to me again!"

He'd told you that he'd been hired by Alkali/Transigen with a few other men as a private contractor right out of the military, not that he got dishonorably discharged and picked up. It didn't even list what he was discharged for! But there was about a paragraph of details leading up to the discharge and the discharge itself, but they all had those big, black redaction lines over the words and that _insufficient information_ stamp that was really starting to piss you off.

You’d always suspected it was because of his hand, but apparently, you were wrong again.

“So, you can tell me the outline of what it says but not what it _actually_ says?”

You continued looking through the files on his desk, most of them had names you've never heard of and science experiments that didn't seem like they'd be related to cancer. Then again, you’re not a doctor or a scientist. Your visit was cut short as you heard more hurried steps and talking outside. 

You made a split-second decision, your heart racing and thrumming loud enough that it finally reached your ears. Your own breathing became muffled as you grabbed Donald's file, using your phone to take pictures of it and then doing the same with the listed experiments in other files. You went to the door, seeing people pass it as you reached for the handle. The voices only got louder and the steps impatient. You twisted the handle, peeking outside. You covered your mouth as you gasped, clenching your phone in your other hand.

He was right there with Travis, of all people, and a few other men. They were carrying guns, of all things, and as you carefully made your way across the hall, looping around the side to the elevator, you heard a pause in the conversation.

"Was that her?" Donald questioned as you furiously pressed the elevator's button. You whined, hitting it a few more times as you watched the numbers go down to let the car reached you. "Betty, was that her?"

You heard steps coming towards you, the swaying of guns against vests and buckles was loud and threatening and you could make out the sound of Donald's boots amongst the rest. He was usually quiet, but when he was trying to be loud or at least intimidating, you could make him out in a crowd.

“If any o’ya touch her, I will be the last fuckin’ person you see as I separate your neck from your shoulders.” You heard him bark, his voice stern. You heard Betty's heels clicking as she attempted to stop him, asking what the problem was. “Baby!”

You whipped your head around, seeing Donald picking up his pace to get to you – but he seemed to hesitate for a second, as if he were debating letting you go.

The elevator dinged, finally opening its doors. You squealed, practically flying inside, and hitting the button for the first floor. You watched as Donald ran towards you, crossing a lot of ground in a scarily short amount of time. You frantically hit the button to close the doors, scared of what might happen.

_Why are you scared of him?_ You asked yourself then thought it over. _Because I don't know what he's capable of. He's lied to me, he might've killed somebody for no reason, he's working here and there's children mentioned in those files, they're experimenting–_

"Baby, wait!" Donald yelled, the doors shutting just as he made it to the elevator. You sighed in relief, hearing a thud against the doors, then you saw the indent of what looked like a _fucking fist_ in the doors. 

You thought you were in the clear, but then saw the metal doors begin to separate as fingers came from the other side and you frantically hit the close door button as the elevator started moving, the fingers pulling back as to not get snapped off. You hoped he was backing off.

You placed a hand to your chest, willing your heart to calm itself. You didn't know, however, that your loving husband was currently rushing down the stairs with his men in tow to catch up to you. When the elevator reached the bottom, Donald came flying out of the stairway exit. You rushed out of the elevator car, cramming your phone in your purse. You had to pull your ID out to shove it to the bottom and you heard a thud then Donald was behind you, people in the lobby watching as he swiped at your purse and ID.

"No!" You screamed, staggering forward as he yanked the ID from you as he attempted to grab you. "Fuck!"

You noticed his men had since donned security badges from their time rushing down to catch you, likely so no one would question the weapons they had dangling off their torsos.

"Baby, please! I just wanna talk!" He called as you rushed outside, nearly knocking someone over as you ran to the back of the parking lot. You almost got hit by a car, feeling a swipe of something through the air behind you as you moved once said car was of your way. You yanked your keys out of your bag, whipping your head around as the thudding of boots echoed across the lot but you didn’t see him, you saw his men. You crammed the right key into the door, unlocking it and getting in, locking the door just as Donald appeared. "What did you see?"

You were confused by his words, sticking the keys in the ignition. You were out of breath as you yelled back your own question. "What?" 

His eyes looked like a fire had been ignited, his hair a mess even as he ran his left hand through it to fix it. It wasn’t his feral-lust fire, it wasn’t the frustration when things go wrong and it wasn’t sadness… it was the fury of guilt and desperation. He put his hand against the window, his gold ring making a soft ‘ding’ noise as it shifted, the wedding ring beneath clinking as you watched the lanyard of your ID swing slightly in his grip, your own face staring back at you with an ignorant, unknowing smile.

You watched his chest rise and fall beneath (what looked like) a kevlar vest, like police wear. _Don’s not a cop, you have a brain. Use it._ "What did you see?"

You turned the keys, shifting gears into drive and slamming your foot on the gas. Donald’s cybernetic hand hit the tailgate angrily as you sped away, the back of the truck swinging wide as you turned sharply.

As you left, Donald looked down at his flesh hand. He was gripping your ID so tightly that it began pressing and pinching his skin. Donald shook his head as he tucked it into his back pocket.

His men were watching him, unsure of what to do. He waved at the building, huffing loudly as none of them moved. He pointed, stepping forward to shove Mohawk in the building’s general direction, the large man hitting another car from the force. "Fuckin’ move! Get back inside!" 

>>> XxXxX

Somewhere along the way, you had stopped beneath a bridge to look up a few terms you’d seen in the files. You muttered softly as you looked through them, eyebrows furrowed as you tried to think of all your previous biology lessons as you googled the terms. 

“Cell synthesis, mutated cell fusion, artificial impregnation… What the _fuck?_ Are they building people?” You continued reading, your eyes squinting slightly as your brain struggled to take in all the information. You helped yourself by choosing certain words, ones you could better understand as your heart still raced, and your lungs still took in half breaths to compete with your heart. “Partial limb growth? Unusual healing trait? …Mutants, maybe? Oh my fu– they’re _creating_ mutants!”

This one time, you didn’t want to be right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is dumb lmao and rushed when im done with this story, or even sometime soon, i'll probs go back and edit the fuck out of it
> 
> (if it isn't clear, a few employees don't actually know what's going on either.)


	15. time to go.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He just wanted to explain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter changed so much and i put so much in and took a lot out, ideas didn't work out and didn't expand as i hoped they would. regardless, i hope you enjoy it.

You’d broken several laws to get home, having called Emily to tell her to get a backpack together and load it with anything she needed: clothes, toothbrush, etc. You ended up parking on the street, yanking the keys from the ignition as you ran up the front steps, nearly tripping into the door before you unlocked it as Emily tossed a bag down the stairs. 

“That’s yours!” She shouted as you saw her rush across the hallway up the stairs before you picked up the bag, watching her chuck a second down the steps as you waited for it. Daxter and Figaro came down with her as you stared at them, grabbing Emily’s bag. “That’s all we need?”

She was looking at you like she knew more about the situation than you did. The two of you heard the roar of an engine and squeal of brakes as you were about to send Emily outside, deciding to leave the animals in the care of your husband. You heard a car door open as the two of you stood at the door, wondering if you should leave out the back.

Emily yelled, suddenly, about how’d she’d forgotten something, and you urged that there was absolutely no time – but she hurled herself up the stairs anyway.

You wondered if she was worried about this abrupt confrontation, but that didn’t sound like your daughter – but she knew how Don’s father was, it made your heart squeeze that she’d think he’d do something like that.

Daxter barked curiously, floppy paws pressing against your shoes in a fervent manor.

The front door suddenly swung open and you had to push your hand out to stop it from hitting you, but much like Emily had, you felt the urge to go elsewhere. 

“We need to talk about what ya saw,” Donald started, chest practically heaving. You tried to look at his eyes, but his stupid sunglasses were blocking your view. You still tried, it was easiest to read him through his eyes. “So… tell me, baby – what’d you see?”

“All I needed to.” You said, voice shaking slightly as you heard Emily’s door creak. Your eyes shifted to the stairs before they flickered back to your husband’s face. Your voice was firmer, jaw set and eyes staring needles into the man you thought you knew. “Emily! It’s time to go.”

But there were no steps down the hall, nor down the stairs, no Converse covered feet scuffing to meet you at the base of the stairs. 

“Emily, stay in your room!” Donald shouted up, and you heard her door slam shut, something hitting a wall upstairs. You felt your heart racing still, like a caged rabbit trying to break free. “Talk to me, that’s all I wanna do.”

“Talk to you? I don’t want to be lied to!” You told him evenly, voice still firm. “Our whole marriage you have lied to me, even before that… you _lied._ You don’t get to ask what I know, or what I saw – what I had to figure out for myself – I get to know just how much you’ve been lying. You don’t get to control this situation, not this time, Donald, it’s mine.”

He stared at you, his heartrate even but his heart swelled with an unfamiliar feeling. You noticed he had ditched his Kevlar vest, your eyes moving down slightly. “Can we sit an’ talk, then?”

“No, I don’t feel like sitting.” You told him honestly, taking a deep breath. You limply dropped the bag you had been holding. “How could you do this to me, after everything our relationship has gone through? After being there for tough times at home, when the military beat you down, when work was scarce? When you had to move your mother, and anything that your father did-“

“My father is _not_ a part of this,” He interjected, watching you through those sunglasses of his. “I don’t wanna hear about ‘im.”

“You’re a big boy, Don! You need to get use to it! Is that why you lie, because you’re use to having to?” You asked, voice holding steady but your eyes holding all your hurt. Your heart felt heavy and your chest ached as you spoke. “I get it if you had to lie because of him, because if you said anything to him he’d hurt you or your mother, I understand – but that’s not an excuse for now. You are safe with me.”

You watched his broad shoulders slump in the slightest, his right hand, the cybernetic one, coming up to pull his sunglasses off his face. It was easier to talk to him with them on, you found out, because as you gazed into that sea of blue, your heart swelled with every good memory, every smile, and every moment spent together and you had to swallow all the pain rising in your throat at that instant. 

“I don’t know where to even begin, I don’t know who you are at this point.”

“Don’t do that shit,” He told you, eyes rolling almost. “Don’t guilt me.”

“Guilt you!” You shouted, surprising him. “Jesus Christ, you should feel guilty!”

He was, to some extent, you’d later realize. However, he did not feel guilty for what he had done, for the lies, the deceit, the late nights, early mornings, the worry and terror, the people he had hurt – no, he was truly sorry, truly feeling guilty that, of all things, you had _found out._

That seemed to be the biggest sin to him, at that point.

“You brought them into our home, Don. You brought two of those people here, into _my_ home! God knows how many more – how many of those army buddies of yours turned into ‘co-workers’ for you. They know where we live, where our family is, they… they know so much. They know what we like, what I like, Don. They know what Emily, Jesus – they know _about_ Emily.” Your volume was now softer, your gaze holding his. “I didn’t know and… what they do to those kids – they’re Emily’s age.”

You saw his eyes darken at that, his jaw clenching. “But they’re not ‘er, (Y/N). Never will be.”

“’What if that _had_ been her!” You prodded, eyes electric with suffering and anger. “How can you sleep at night knowing that?”

“Soundly, with my head on th’ pillow... holdin’ you.”

“You are an _insufferably, arrogant… bastard!”_ You practically sputtered, watching him. You felt rage building in your veins, the kind you had only seen in your husband. “What the _fuck_ is actually _wrong_ with you, that some part of you _thinks_ this is remotely okay?” 

See, now that _hurt._

He stared at you, his flesh hand clenching and unclenching into a fist. His foot was twitching slightly, and dimly, you realized, perhaps he was _nervous_ at this moment.   
“I want an answer. Do you have one?” You questioned, stepping closer to him. Your foot hit the bag you had dropped, but you resisted the urge to look at it. “Why did you lie?”

“I don’t know.” He told you honestly, his eyes watching yours. He reached for your hand and you pulled it away, hearing him make a soft sound of disdain before he spoke again. “I don’t wanna do this, baby, _please._ Let’s jus’ si-“

“No!” You shouted, stepping even closer to him. “How does it feel to experiment on children? How does that _fucking feel,_ knowing that they’re scared? Is that something you like, huh?”

“I never actually experime-“ His words were cut off by the crack of a slap as your hand hit his face, his head going to the side as his eyebrows rose and his eyes darkened further, his jaw moving and working as his flesh hand came up to rub the reddening area. He whispered, then, eyes towards the ground, before they started to move back up to meet your gaze. “Christ, (Y/N).”

You felt something other than pain rise in you at seeing those stormy eyes meet yours, you felt the urge to run but you kept going. Your eyes found a space behind his head, staring at the slightly open door to your humble home. “Is that what you like, Don? Picking on people smaller than you? You feed off that feeling of prey – I already know that, I’ve known that for years and it always kind of bothered me, I mean, I'd try to talk to your mother and she'd just – I don’t know, it’s just… it’s disgusting and it’s terrifying-“

“I scare you?” He asked softly, and it was like you were suddenly talking to a teenager rather than an adult who could easily snap you in half if he wanted. You wondered if he used that as power but the way he reacted told you otherwise. That, in someway, despite the fact that he was genuinely a _monster_ to those who truly knew him… you didn’t, you knew him in other ways and it wounded him, it ached him, chilled him to his already icy core that his love, his life would be _consumed_ by fear _because_ of him. You could lie, you could say you weren’t, but the overwhelming nature of it was that, yes, you were _terrified_ of him and what he’s done, but also what he has yet to do. “Baby?”

“Emily, we’re leaving.” You called up the stairs, not sure what else to say. You felt your stomach churning as you bent down to pick up the bag. You saw your husband move for a moment, as if he were going to grab your bag, you hurriedly picked it up and slung it over your shoulder. You heard the creak of a door and saw Emily appear from her room, bag dragging behind her as she picked it up. “I shouldn’t be the one leaving, you prick, but I don’t really have a choice. Don’t call me til you’re ready to talk about what you’ve done.”

His mind was swimming as the realization hit him. You were leaving, you were _actually_ taking your things, and Emily, and leaving. You ushered Emily out first, covering her with your own body as you rushed her out the door. 

“Em…“ Donald started, watching his daughter look back at him with a grim look on her face, her naturally icy eyes that same stormy color as his were. “Hon-“

“Don’t talk to her.” You snapped, pushing yourself out the door before Donald’s left hand reached out and slapped onto your arm, clamping down and pulling you towards him. You screamed at the sudden yank, your entire body pressed to his as he stared down at you. “Let me go!”

“I don’t wanna lose you, you have to let me explain-“

You shook your head furiously, beating your fists against his muscular chest. “I don’t have to do shit, Don! Let me-“

“Those kids were all experiments, but they weren’t mine! I was a wrangler, y’know? I was there to keep everyone in chec-“

“Let her go.” Emily said shortly, her tone clipped. “Right now.”

“Emily, don’t.” You urged, watching your husband look over at her. “Just go outside.”

“Let go of her!” Emily demanded, meeting eyes with her father and you saw his head start to turn as a grimace wrote itself across his face. A searing, white hot pain shot up the back of his skull as he gripped you tighter, Emily’s jaw clenching as she stared at him. His cybernetic hand came up to hold the back of his head, a groan escaping his lips as you finally freed yourself. Emily ushered you out as she continued to stare at her father. “Let’s go.” 

“Is that-“ Donald started, his feet planted as he struggled to make sense of what was happening. He made eye contact with you and then Emily, his eyes switching furiously between you two. “You?”

“How’s it feel, Don? Knowing that Emily could have been one of those kids?” You spat, grabbing her shoulder to get her attention. “How’s it feel knowing your _daughter_ is a _mutant?”_

He could never tell if he wanted to hurt mutants or if he was truly jealous of them, it was a puzzle to those at work, too. He seemed vicious towards them, but he talked to them as if they amazed him, true genetic anomalies. 

Emily stopped the cranial-melt on her father, her own mind stressed from the tension she was putting on his. You noticed a small dribble of blood peeking from her nose as you two rushed out of the door, a hand swiping at you from behind. Even with his brain swimming with confusion, he still attempted to grab you and you yelped as you tried to move faster, your feet clumsily catching under you as you hurled yourself down the short steps, your head falling onto the grass as the rest of you hit the slight concrete of the bent sidewalk.

“Jesus, baby – are y’hurt?” Donald asked from behind you and you _felt_ the fraction of a second it took for Emily to check you over, look at her father and slam the glass door in his face, the wooden one opening wider behind him as he struggled to force open the glass one. He slammed his hand on the glass, his thick ring hitting it as his wedding ring did. He demanded that Emily open the door, still not taking into consideration what she could do. He looked down at you as you stood, your bag having taken most of your fall. “(Y/N)!”

“I have children to take care of, you asshole.” Your voice was dripping venom as you stood, Emily watching her father almost break the glass at this. “Emily, keep him there til we’re down the street.”

By the time you were in the truck and down the street, your heartrate had calmed slightly. You glanced in the rearview mirror as Emily cut whatever hold she had and her father nearly came tripping out of the doorway and down the steps as you had. 

Perhaps it didn’t occur to him what you had said til later, your voice bitter and angry. Eventually, he would realize you said ‘children’ and not ‘child.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading.


	16. saint dominic's.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a well-kept secret, a childhood habit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhhhhhhhhhh I figured I'd cut it off right then and there rather than write more bc I got this idea and ran with it

He’d left a window open last night before he had gone to bed. It was a little irksome to have to kick off blankets that he rarely slept under. His blood might run cold but his flesh is surely hot. There was a fan in the corner of the room that wobbled and made a soft humming sound if the speed was too high. You always complained when the window was open too much because of the cold air that came in, but he didn’t have to worry about that… not right now, anyway. 

Donald was walking down the stairs of the house, the place was humbly empty save for him and the two animals awaiting their food downstairs. His burgundy sweatpants swayed as he began to jog to move faster down the carpeted steps, eventually walking down the hall and reaching the kitchen. His shirtless torso experienced the sudden kitchen chill before he shrugged it off. He was quick to pour out some food into Daxter’s bowl and to crack open a can of wet food for the meowing cat that had dry food, as well. 

He didn’t dump the food onto a plate as you or Emily did, instead he just put the can on the ground. He changed their water and then got busy with his own breakfast: a nice cold bowl of Captain Crunch cereal. He sat down at the wooden dining table, left foot firmly planted on the ground with his right leg stretched across the chairs. He ate loudly, chewing the cereal heavily as his brain seemed to be booting up after his long sleep. 

His brain’s first immediate thought: _How do you explain to your child’s school about the sudden disappearance of said child?_

He crunched away at his cereal, blue eyes blearily focusing on the animals eating before he sighed to himself. He fished his phone out of his sweatpant’s pocket, scrolling through his contacts til he found the number he’d been looking for. He stared at the screen for a moment as he swallowed his cereal, pondering his reasoning as his thumb hovered over the screen. He sighed once more, thumb pressing down on the green _‘call’_ button. 

The number rang twice before he heard the click, a soft, positively feminine voice coming through the speaker, _“Saint Dominic’s Rectory, this is Dixie… what can I do for ya?”_

“Dixie? You new to the church?” Donald questioned huskily, stirring his cereal with his spoon as he spoke into the phone. Before she could respond, he rolled his eyes at himself. “Doesn’t matter, is Iggy there?”

 _“Who?”_ Dixie asked, confusion bleeding through her voice. _“Don’t think I’ve heard that name before!”_

Donald ran a hand down his face, clearing his throat to get rid of his morning voice. “Father Ignatius, Dixie, is he there?”

“Oh – yeah, all day! Can I pass along a message or…?” 

“Tell ‘im an old friend’s stoppin’ by, okay? Gotta get somethin’ off my chest.” Donald replied as Dixie began to speak, he was quick to end the call. He looked over at the cat and dog on the ground before messily finishing his cereal (milk included) and proceeded to march himself up the stairs. 

He cleaned himself up, trimmed his scruff and combed his hair, moving deftly as he pulled on a casual-type suit. His usual black shirt, black pants, black-military boots combo complimented him as he looked at himself in his full-length mirror. 

Well, it was _really_ yours, but he used it more than you did. That was nothing new. He messed with the chain around his neck, leaving the top two buttons of his shirt unbuttoned as he scratched at his neck tattoo. He then located his sunglasses and put them on, smiling sweetly at himself before dropping it, grabbing his wallet and keys, dragging his jacket along with him as he stomped down the stairs.

He said goodbye to the animals and caught himself before he yelled out a goodbye to you, even though you weren’t there. He felt his heart tug at the thought, clenching his jaw, and grinding down on his teeth while rolling his shoulders. He yanked the front door open, stepping out onto the front porch before he closed then locked the front door behind himself. 

He had a lead foot as he drove to Saint Dominic’s, traveling miles out of his way to go to the old church he wasn’t sure anyone still frequented. Sure, there were a few old folks there when he arrived, but he felt like the grim reaper when he walked In; dressed in all black when there was nothing but bright colors surrounding him. The stain-glass figures all but stared at him.

This place felt like a well-kept secret to him.

Not even you knew he still went, he wasn’t sure if Emily knew – she probably did, he wasn’t sure how much of his mind she had scoured in the past. Was she even able to? He didn’t know. 

The moment he set foot in the door, he went to the information desk. There was an older woman in a mint skirt and jacket, his eyes recognized her immediately and he shook off the out-of-place feeling he was use to crawling up his spine when he walked in.

“Donald! It’s so nice to see you, how’ve ya been?” She asked, standing quickly as she rounded the desk on her short legs. She grasped his broad shoulders, pulling him down to her height to kiss his cheek as he politely put one hand on her back to make sure she didn’t tip over from her own enthusiastic movements. “You always look so tall! Hey, you’ve gotta get some other color on ya, kiddo! All this black stuff-“

“I like it, Ms. Maye.” He said honestly, licking his lips. “It’s professional.”

“It’s too _hot_ to wear this…” she lowered her voice, the back of the church was still the church, even as she swore. “…shit, y’know?” 

Donald chuckled deeply, shaking his head at her as she dropped her hands from his shoulders and he dropped his hand from her back. “Where’s Iggy at?”

“That old coot? Dunno, last time I saw, Martha June was walking into the confessional and I guess he was on the other side.”

“Right where I need him, then.” Donald muttered, gaze shifting around the gathering area. Maye Kulchen looked up at him, warm expression on her face. “I’ll talk to ya later.”

“How’s your mama?” She asked before he went off, causing Donald to freeze himself in his steps. The older woman furrowed her brows, lips pursed. “Tell me you still visit her? You didn’t just throw away the ke-” 

“Now, Maye, ya know I love my mama.” Donald reminded her, turning to look down at her. Everyone knew that, if they even implied any ill will towards her, Donald was on them like an attack dog in a second. The older woman suddenly felt positively puny compared to him as she looked up at his towering form. He wasn’t into intimidating old ladies, so he took a step back and loosened his shoulders, smiling for a moment. “I do still visit ‘er, it’s just… I wasn’t expectin’ the question, ya see? She’s doin’ mighty fine, if I do say so m’self. Obviously, she misses the church, but…”

“Too far, I understand.” She nodded slowly, clasping her hands together. “Ignatius will be done shortly, by the way.”

“I can take you up with me, sometime – if ya like?” Donald offered, shrugging his shoulders gently. The older woman nodded once more, smiling brightly up at him. “Alright, well I’ll do that, then.”

“And your father?”

“On account of me not visitin’ the sorry bastard, I wouldn’t know.” He chose his next words carefully, voice even as a wolfish grin split across his face. “If he was dead, right at this moment? I wouldn’t know it, and I’d say it’s positively _sinful_ of me to say I wouldn’t give a shit.”

“It’s sinful to swear in church, son.” The two heard over their shoulders, turning to see Father Ignatius standing there with his hands clasped behind his back. “Come on, now. Enough talkin’, we can sit down for cake an’ coffee later.”

“She swore first, Iggy.” Donald defended, pointing to the older woman who gasped and swatted at his arm. The tall man laughed loudly, his voice echoing across the empty area. “Hey – I’m just tellin’ the truth, ain’t that what this whole thing’s all about?”

Father Ignatius rolled his eyes and motioned Donald towards him, watching the younger man lean down to press a kiss to the older woman’s temple. Her cheeks heated up at the gesture, patting his back before he walked towards the priest. “Now, I hope you don’t plan on kissin’ me, son.”

The two shared a smile before they walked to the confessionals, the shorter man meeting Donald’s long strides with his own faster steps. 

“Y’know the drill, tell me everything that’s gone on since you last visited.” 

“Maybe I should start with my lovely wife takin’ off with my daughter, huh?”

Ignatius quirked a brow, the screen between them being yanked open by him to practically glower at the man. “Well… hell, son, what’d ya do?”

“If you’d let me talk—"

“Fine, fine.” The priest muttered, reluctantly dragging the screen back to where it was supposed to be as Donald shut the confessional door. The tall man kneeled and clasped his hands together, eyes closing as he found his quiet. He muttered the Act of Contrition before rolling his shoulders, taking a deep, even breath and then pausing. “Alright, let me have it.”

Donald raised one of his eyebrows, opening his eyes then his mouth, “It started back when I was stayin’ outta the house more, y’know? Later.”

The old priest listened carefully, nodding his head as he acted as part-therapist, part-forgiver. This, as it always did, would take a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little Offbeat and possibly ooc, but I really don't care


	17. memorial.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A realization occurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is just a filler, really. it's not meant to mean too much, but it's also a primer. no, i haven't forgotten about this story, far from it, actually, but finals are coming in hot and work is piling up, unfortunately. i'm hoping to tie this up by june, but i doubt that'll happen. i will have a free month during may of college, so that's nice. i might just use that to rest, more than anything, and catch up on shows i stopped watching due to my school shit. 
> 
> as always, thank you for your patience.

By the time Donald had finished his admission of sin then his penance, the sun was high in the sky but he knew it would soon set. Father Ignatius had gone on a walk shortly after Donald began his penance, the tall man kneeling in front of the Blessed Virgin, careful not to dip his head too low as the lit candles, all varied in size, could likely catch loose strands of hair. 

His hands folded neatly as he heard the priest open the church’s side door, going to the garden he so often went to after Donald spoke to him. He felt a bit guilty, something he was feeling increasingly these days, as he tilted his head to the side and popped one of his blue eyes open to watch the priest practically fly down the stairs and disappear to the small cobbled area.

He stood after his penance, seeing Maye from the corner of his eye. He tracked her across the vestibule to the smaller office nearby, his shoulders shifting as he leaned forward, careful not to trip over the kneeler as he pressed a kiss to the statue’s head before he stepped away, going to where Father Ignatius had gone. He was light on his feet as he descended the stairs, walking just past the trimmed shrubs as the old priest glanced at him with tired eyes. 

The man reminded him of a bloodhound in the most loyal way.

“Sometimes I worry for you, Don.” Ignatius told him, “born screaming, a heavy weight on your mother's heart... I fear you’ll die the same way.”

Donald made a soft sound, almost a laugh but something closer to a huff. “Is that so?”

“I baptized you in water, you baptized yourself in blood. That’s not something adoration or penance can erase, it weighs on a man's soul, you _must_ understand that. It takes time to wipe that sort of slate clean, kid.” The priest was looking at a memorial stone dedicated to the original priest that had started Saint Dominic's, Father Charles, or as Donald had called him even in his last days, Chuck. “Father Laurent couldn’t handle you as a child-“

“A lot of people couldn’t, got told I was a _bad breed_ by my father.” 

“Your father is a cruel man.” Ignatius spat, brown eyes angry as they turned to Donald's blue ones, the naturally softer color far more striking than he could imagine. He almost looked away… _almost._ “Laurent was a young man, at the time, and Charles was the founding father, building a church upon this hill. We tried to reunite your father with the Lord, but some people aren’t made for it and some people…”

“My mother said he didn’t deserve that kind of forgiveness.”

“The same could be said about you, Don.”

The tall man’s eyes practically bore holes into the older one’s back as Ignatius’ gaze fell back to the memorial stone.

“I’m not my father.” Donald insisted, clenching his jaw. A flood of emotion hit him as he thought to his childhood, to his first days in this church, to his first steps towards a relationship with you, towards the army, towards Transigen and- “I’m not him.”

“And never shall you be. You’ve never struck your wife or your child. You’re the type of man to cut off the hand that did it, maybe the entire arm. But,” Donald looked to his cybernetic hand for a moment as Ignatius paused, dropping his voice, then, lowering it, “you'll murder anyone who stands in the way of what you believe in. I don’t get it. You’re not separate people, you’re the same, through-and-through. However, it’s like you’re Donald Pierce at work, Mister Pierce, the leader, but the second you get home, it’s like taking off a coat. You suddenly become _Donnie_ and all is right with the world.”

Donald looked towards the sun, squinting in the slightest at it. He didn’t say anything as Ignatius continued, “and I mean it when I say I don’t understand how you do that, how it’s possible.”

Instead of replying with the obvious, _I don’t either,_ he instead looked to the tree his mother use to sit under after teaching Sunday school. “My child's a mutant, Iggy. I – my wife's pregnant again, it took me time to realize that, but before she left, she told me she’s got _children_ to think of, to take care of.”

“On Saint Peter, kid – so what? Congrats! That doesn’t make you any less of a father to Emily. You’ve done some things, many things, _horrible_ things. It wasn’t Emily, it could’ve been, but thank God it wasn’t.” Ignatius sounded like you, a little, Donald mulled it over as the man spoke. “You’ve got to make your peace with her, because as much as she could raise those two on her own, as she might’ve done already with Emily, it would be better for the child, in some regards, if you were there, as well.”

Donald, once more, clenched his jaw and looked high to the sky as if his answer would be provided from the golden source of light they called the sun. He squinted, seeing a bird fly overhead and into the path of the light, and he knew, in that moment, Ignatius was right: he messed up and he had to figure out a way to set this train back on its track.

"So, where does that leave us? You must either right your wrongs or let her go. We both know you've already decided."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed!


	18. faithful.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look back on days just before he lost a friend, a fellow soldier, and a... well, that doesn't matter much now, does it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh hey gays this chapter is ,,, wildin!! I avoided doing research bc I wrote this in like, twenty minutes, but this is a flashback chapter. However, it's not in italics for now because that takes more time and I didn't feel like doing it bc I am TIRED, but what's new? Anywho, hopefully nothing in here is #offensive but if I got some information regarding race or ethnicity wrong, lemme know!!!

He remembered a time, fondly, when he was camped out in the middle of absolute _nowhere_ sweltering to death in some bullshit tent. 

The desert was unforgiving.

He was laying in his bed, arms folded behind his head with his right leg bent at the knee and his left crossed over it, his boot swinging as he moved his leg in the slightest. The large tent smelled like sweat, dust, and damp air.

“Hey, do you think if I laid down in that sand, bare-assed, I could get a tan?” Jaco Hacken asked, eyes serious as an immature grin passed over his features. Donald’s gaze met his, blue eyes meeting the hazel ones before him. He swiped his tongue over his teeth and curled his lips, making a smacking sound as Hacken waited for an answer. “Well?”

“You’re joking, right?” Donald questioned, eyes wistful at the immaturity of his fellow soldier. “If you got any more tan, Hack, you'd be Punjabi.”

“I think I’ve got the complexion of cardboard, if I do say so myself. My mother, if she heard me talk, would swat me and yell at me in Farsi,” he paused, gaze meandering to see Cassidy jogging across the uneven terrain they called base. “Here comes your buddy, Pierce, looks a little… annoyed?”

“Who, Cass?” He could’ve swiveled his neck to look back, but suddenly there was the flash of the man they spoke of and Donald’s gaze shifted in the slightest. “Your dad would probably have your ass first though, right?”

“Man, he’s just some suburban white dad, y'know. Regular as a cone of vanilla ice cream,” he paused again, something he did to collect his thoughts. “Though, I suppose, he did put me through years of prep school, academies –“

“Jaco, I get it, your dad is fuckin' rich!” Donald chuckled, eyes crinkling at the corners. Cassidy was still waiting patiently as the slightly darker man moved away from the two, but not before stealing Donald's copy of some old war book. “Need somethin'?”

“Uh, I need you to come with me – there’s been a problem with one of your… _boys.”_

“Who?” He was quick to stand, his strides carrying him faster as he crossed the wooden flooring of the platform tent, then stomped into the sand. His dog tags swung in the slightest across his toned chest, his tank top collecting any sweat he had from the heat, his uniform tied low around his waist, moving with him as Cassidy struggled to lead the way. “Who was it, Cass?”

“Baldridge, he was messing with some plantation farmers, good guys, you know? But he got rough, started joking about taking all their shit, one of them had a bayonet looking thing, like the Civil War and-“

“He’s gonna get himself killed!” He was angry, grabbing Cassidy by the shirt he wore, just between his shoulder blades, to help haul him along to the medical tent. Donald didn’t even have to ask where he was, he knew it from the situation. Their boots caught the steps within their next few strides, carefully jogging up the short area to cross the tent and reach Eric Baldridge, or, as most people called him, “Balddick, what the fuck?”

“Man, I was just playin’, I swear – that’s all it was, a joke! Big joke!” 

“Big joke cost you, what, your eye?”

“No, no… see – that’s funny, cause I can’t – the guy stuck me right _above_ my eye. The blood is just thick, there, causin' me not to be able to see, is all…” Eric trailed off, licking his lips quickly as he looked behind the two to see Jaco coming up the steps with their C.O in tow. Eric rose quickly, saluting the man nervously as James just stared at them. The other three did nothing, no salutations to him. Donald grew quiet, his anger simmering for now as he pulled Cassidy back, still gripping his shirt in a protective manner. “Sir!”

“Sit down, Jesus, soldier – they teach that in the ghetto?”

“Sir?”

The four soldiers watched their C.O’s face as he stared at them, shaking his head, “nevermind, kid – when can you be back in rotation?”

“Nance said couple days at the latest,” Cassidy informed, nodding over to Joshua Nancy, lead advisor and field doctor in the medical tent. “Won’t do any good for him to go on building sweeps if he can only see half the picture, uh, sir.”

“Right, shit – damn. Cassidy, you go in for him.”

“Permission to-“

“No, Pierce, keep your opinion to yourself. If Baldridge can’t go, Cassidy will. End of story.”

“I volunteer, sir, would be nice to get away from this sand.” Jaco grinned again, his usual demeanor, the boys use to call him ‘jackal' before their C.O got switched to the tight ass Daniel James. “I could be making glass, at this rate.”

“You all want disciplinary duty, huh? I said Cassidy is the one going, next one to undermine me loses watch privileges. You’ll have to sit in your sauna of a tent and rot, like the rest of ‘em. So, go ahead, keep your knuckleheaded _suggestions_ coming, and I'll have you all split up, I'm sure the helo guys would love a smartass like you, Hacken.”

The four avoided his gaze, watching him leave. Later that night, as Donald began teaching Cassidy the stuff they don’t actually cover in training, Cassidy stopped him and spoke truthfully.

“How many people die, on average, doing the kinda sweeps I'll be doing?” Donald swallowed stiffly, shrugging as Cassidy sighed. “Just, please, be honest with me, Don?”

“A lot. Tripwires, ambushes, rogue set-ups… even shaky hands can get you killed, Cass –“ Donald was silenced as the smaller man suddenly surged forward, lips pressing to his in a chaste kiss before he pulled back. Donald stared at him, pupils blown wide as Cassidy studied his masculine features before moving forward again, only to have Donald put a hand around his neck and one over his mouth, pushing him back. “Don’t, Quinn, not now. Don’t start this.”

The smaller man shook him off, staring into his eyes before kissing him again, the muscle of his tongue slippery as he licked at Donald's lips, pushing past them, slowly pushing him back onto the couch they shared in the library quarters. Cassidy was not strong, by no mean, he was fairly petite compared to the much larger, much more muscular, and positively brutish man beneath him. He felt powerful, in that moment, as he carefully straddled Donald's waist, kissing him with fervor as his eyelids fluttered shut, doing what he had so dreamed of for so long. He couldn’t quite tell if he was being resisted or accepted, and he was moving to pull back once more, hand coaxing through Donald's hair but it was ruined, and he was even more breathless, as Donald grabbed hold of the side of his pants and the side of his shirt, pressing close to him to flip him with practiced ease, Cassidy now below him.

Donald's hips rested snuggly between Cassidy’s thighs, and the two men stared at each other before Donald spoke, still gripping the material in his deft fingers, “I love my wife, Cass. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for loving your wife?” Cassidy chuckled breathlessly, nervous that he had messed up their relationship, in some way. “Or sorry that this situation isn’t different when it could be?”

Donald stared down at him, gaze piercing before the two heard the creak of the door, the entrance to the barren library. He was quick to pull off and steel himself, fingers brushing against a few textbooks as Cassidy righted himself as well, fixing his shirt from Donald's grip as Jaco walked past, making some comment about a newspaper article he needed, even as Donald talked and pretended to be focusing on some sentence about defusal and regulations. 

Cassidy stared at the side of his face, swallowing anxiously at the idea of being killed by one wrong move during a sweep. That had been his chance, he knew that – but Donald Pierce had always been a faithful man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!


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